


11 Days of Vanderwood

by Lokiiwood (undersans)



Series: Vanderwood's Story [1]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Don't tell Vanderwood to calm down, F/M, Fuck Mint Eye, I guess I'll start adding tags and stuff, Jaehee has a lot to deal with already why this, Jesus what have you done, Jumin is adorable, Kinky fluffy sex, MC is trying her best, Major Character Injury, Oral Sex, POV Alternating, Physical Abuse, Rika have you any shame, Seven is suffering, Sexual Abuse, Threats of non-con, V you are not helping as much as you think, Vaginal Sex, Vanderwood kicks some ass, Vanderwood will do anything for you baby, Verbal Abuse, What I'm saying is people are mean, Yoosung is not useless, Zen is also trying his best, absolute fucking murder, unprotected sex, way too much Saeran than originally intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-03-19 09:31:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 105,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13701729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undersans/pseuds/Lokiiwood
Summary: What if Vanderwood had his own route? What if it was NSFW? Yeah, I thought so. In an alternate timeline where MC denied to be the Party Coordinator and lived, watch as she navigates a strange new world of lies, conspiracy, and a sexy agent who really didn't sign up for any of this.





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> No sexual content in the first chapter, sorry! I still wanted a story, so look forward to the next ;) There will be 11 chapters for 11 days.

The chatroom exploded with conversation, and although you were a bit afraid, the cute faces excited you.

Except for the unidentified Unknown, naturally.

All he could tell you was to have fun in a threatening way, but nothing about this seemed particularly threatening. It was a trap, but why a pleasant trap? A nice place to stay and new friends didn’t sound bad. It was like being given free membership to a supportive family-like sorority and sarcastically told to better yourself.

So you played along and accepted the new title. You were now the Party Coordinator, even though the menacing question of Unknown remained sprawled on its web in the corner of your mind. But as long as it didn’t move, as long as it didn’t come for you, you didn’t worry.

That’s when you got the call.

Unknown sounded distorted through the phone, demanding you play along a bit better, since he could see you packing your things. You had no intention of leaving or turning down the role, but the fact that a stranger was watching and threatening you made you indignant.

“No, I’m not going to be the new Party Coordinator, sorry. Fuck off!”

The phone clicked, but you couldn’t tell who hung up first. What an asshole – what was he going to do, kill you?

_Special security system on._

Shit. You ran to the door, but it was locked. You put in the code Unknown gave you, but nothing happened. A countdown started.

A short vibration came through on your mysterious new phone and you opened it, hoping to see something from one of the RFA members.

“You should’ve listened,” from Unknown was all you had.

_15…_

Your hands started shaking and you dropped the phone.

_14…_

You reached down, fumbling to pick it back up.

_13…_

What the heck was going to happen at the end of the countdown?

_12…_

The phone started buzzing, and you checked again – it was from 707.

_11…_

You dropped it again, and screamed out in frustration. You clicked accept – almost shouting, “Yes, hello? Seven?”

_10…_

His voice came out very smooth and calm, completely unlike your first impression of him. “I’m going to need you to listen. On the keypad enter the following numbers after me – don’t talk, just do it.”

_9…_

You said nothing and nodded, even though he wasn’t there. “7790318, pound.”

_8…_

The door beeped and you thrust the handle down, before bolting out of the room.

_7…_

A fire alarm was blaring, and you were unsure how in the world you didn’t hear it inside the room. You ran past the elevator and to the stairwell. People were slowly making their way down and you relaxed, feeling finally out of danger.

“Run out of the building, MC. Now.”

You nodded again – why the hell were you nodding – and ran past the others who glared at you and moaned. You didn’t mean to be rude, but something about 707’s still voice was commanding. You were afraid even if you had no idea what was going on.

But you didn’t have to, a loud noise attacked your eardrums and it all faded to black.

As soon as it happened, it felt like you’d been trapped in a void for hours. What about this pitch black space felt so familiar? Were you dreaming, or is this what you did when you were unconscious? It was scary, yet comforting. Maybe you were lucid dreaming – but you couldn’t get a grip on any thought. It passed through you, phasing in and out of nothing. Maybe this was what dying was like? But where was the light? There was nothing – you were nothing.

The apartment.

You gasped awake, but everything was still black. Were you blind? Tears began falling and you touched your face. Was it real? Were you real? A sliver of light peeked out beneath your eyelashes. Where was it? You reached it and touched what felt like a face. You jolted it back. What in the hell?

The light spread more and more until you were real again – the light was everywhere. You were in a bed, you could see. The face in front of you was Seven’s. You felt relieved, but confused. The picture of the apartment stood large in your mind, but you couldn’t figure out what was so important about it. Weren’t you in the apartment? The pieces fell slowly. The word Unknown appeared – Unknown, apartment, those were the two words that occupied you. You almost forget Seven was there until he touched his hand to your forehead.

“MC? It’s Seven. Can you speak? Say something?”

The voice was full of concern, but his face looked angry. Where did you meet him again? You felt like you’ve known him for a long time, but you didn’t know anything about him. Was this his place?

You looked around, trying to figure out if you’d visited before.

“MC?” You snapped back to Seven and smiled. Didn’t you already tell him you’re fine? You moved his hand from your forehead and began gazing around again. He must’ve changed up the place, that’s why it looked unfamiliar. Downwards and across the room, you saw a bunch of monitors and computers linked up. It looked awesome – sick – no wonder he never invited you over, he didn’t want you break his gaming setup. He probably remembered you weren’t that amazing with technology. At least you had fun in LOLOL. Ah, that must be where you two met.

Yoosung.

Of course! Where was Yoosung? Your partner in crime, maybe he was visiting, too. You looked back at Seven. Was he going to tell you? You asked him, so why didn’t he say anything?

“You’re not saying anything, MC. I’m so sorry, this is all my fault,” Seven wheezed out, lip trembling.

What was his problem? Was he in a bad mood? You already told him you were fine plenty of times.

You grabbed his hands and pulled him into a hug. There, there. There’s no need for old friends to cry. You cared about him, so he should lighten up back to his cheerful self. He hugged back and sighed.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do about this, this is pretty bad.” Seven pulled away and pointed to a dresser beside you. “Water and chips is all I have on me right now, but I promise I’ll get you something proper to eat, so just…hang on, alright?”

He walked down the small steps towards the computers, plopping down in his seat and ruffling his hair. He seemed upset about something. But after a few seconds, Seven was typing away at the computer. All the monitors seemed to have completely different things on them, it was fascinating.

You drank some of the water and picked up the bag of chips. Honey Buddha? What in the world was that? You weren’t hungry though and placed it back down.

_Ouch._

You touched your head gently, then pulled your hand away. What in the world? Why was your head hurting so bad? And why was it bandaged? You sighed and laid all the way down, tucking yourself under the covers. You smiled – it smelled so nice in here, Seven was a clean person. Was he? You let the thought go and slipped away.

Seven stood away from you, looking up at space. You walked forward, but it was like the distance kept increasing with every step. After a few you gave up and tried calling him instead.

“Seven!” He didn’t turn around, but a white light like a shooting star began trailing across the sky. Both of your heads turned to watch it.

“Wow, that’s beautiful. Seven, isn’t that amazing?” The white light didn’t fade, however. It exploded and more white light spread forth – as if it were ripping through the cosmos itself. Hands began prying open the white light. God? God was tearing apart the cosmos.

“God! No! God!”

You gasped awake to see God above you, having moved the covers away from your face. But he wasn’t alone. God with Seven behind him peered down at you in the bed. But God looked a bit too handsome for your taste. A serious, gorgeous face with long, brown hair. He looked a little young to be God – a little too hot to be God.

“Are you serious, Seven? What the hell?”

Seven sighed and gently pulled God to look at him, away from you. You sat up, a bit confused as to why God was cursing about hell to your friend.

“It’s just for a little while, I need time to figure this out,” seemed to beg Seven.

“She looks god damn blasted, man. Why bring her here? You know we can’t have friends. I swear I’m going to tell the boss about the RFA. This is just too far!” yelled God. You didn’t like him yelling at Seven, but for some reason they were both ignoring you telling them to stop.

“I know how it looks, but this was the safest option for both of us. We both need to lay low, a lot just happened over the course of a day.”

“What the hell does she need to lay low for, is she a god damn agent too?”

“Sssh! Maybe we talk away from her, alright?”

An agent? An agent of…Heaven?

God grabbed Seven’s hoodie and stomped away. In angry whispers away from you, you stared at them. God was really bossing Seven around, but it didn’t look like God was really threatening him. What a weird relationship.

Jumin.

What was your childhood friend Jumin up to? You looked under the covers, moving around your hand until you finally touched the cool material. Your phone!

You opened it up – but it was completely cracked. Damn, when did you do that? You peeked over to the dresser and saw another phone. Yours? It looked weird, but it only had a couple of cracks on it. You replaced the one in your hand with it. It asked for a password and you entered it naturally – ta da! Open. It must be your phone. Why do you have two phones? You couldn’t remember.

There it was, the RFA app you were looking for. But that’s weird, where were the rest of your apps? How were you supposed to play your otome games? Hopefully you could still transfer data.

You opened up the chat and grinned – lucky you! Jumin was there. Along with Zen! You face fell. How did you know Zen? Maybe you didn’t. His face was the only thing that seemed familiar. That’s strange. You guessed you weren’t really friends with Zen, then.

MC: Hello! Jumin, Zen, how are you?

Zen: MC! We heard the news, are you alright?

Jumin: Since you’re here I’m assuming the blast didn’t hit you. That’s good, your safety is a top priority. The insurance of the apartment should cover damages.

Zen: Man why do you have to make everything sound so business. MC is alive and you want to mention insurance?!

Jumin: Having stability after a tragic loss of home is pertinent for a sound mind, I am just being considerate.

Zen: Seriously…ugh…MC, what happened? 707 disappeared right before the explosion, saying the special security went off.

MC: Um…explosion?

Jumin: Could it be you were not at the apartment at the time of the incident?

Zen: That’s even better!

Jumin: She didn’t confirm anything, we shouldn’t assume.

Zen: Dude…you just did the same thing.

Jumin: I simply offered the most likely explanation as to why she wouldn’t know about the apartment explosion. I assume nothing until I have the facts.

Zen: You are seriously just…so frustrating.

MC: I haven’t heard about an explosion…I’ve been hanging out at Seven’s house.

Zen: Eh?! Seven?! But I haven’t even been to his house! Man, that dog! He didn’t do anything inappropriate did he?!

Jumin: Strange, Luciel didn’t mention you visiting. If I recall, I don’t think anyone outside of V has even seen Luciel’s home in all these years.

Zen: Where is he! Get him on here! I’m calling him right now!

MC: He’s talking to God right now, just give him a few minutes.

Jumin: God..?

 

Seven’s phone started ringing, and you finally looked up from the app. He looked at his phone and rejected the call, before continuing his conversation. Well, that made sense – Seven has his priorities straight. Zen seemed to care for you a lot, why couldn’t you remember him?

 

Zen: I…I can’t believe he rejected my call. Man! I’m so mad! Sigh, it’s fine, as long as you’re safe MC.

Jumin: Could you explain what you meant by ‘God’?

Zen: Eh…?

MC: God is mad at Seven for bringing me here for some reason. It’ll be fine!

Zen: MC…are you two pulling a prank on us? Is this God7 again?

 

The chat suddenly closed. Did you lose battery or connection? No, you still had about 50% left and the bars were full. Then, the app itself closed. Woaw, did you break it? You looked over to see Seven and God staring at you. Seven put his phone away in his pocket and began walking over. He looked serious – it was scary. Why wasn’t he cheerful today?

“You can’t talk to them right now, not about being here and not about the maid,” Seven said, sternly. “You understand? It’s very important. You typed, so does that mean you can talk now?”

Of course you could, they were just ignoring you. You rolled your eyes and turned away. Fine, two could play at that game.

“Maid?” God said, exasperated.

“You prefer MC call you Mary?” Seven said, his face still serious but his tone lighter.

“Why you – whatever!” he said, angry again. Holy Mary seemed fitting for such a beautiful face.

They both snapped to look at you.

“What-what did you call me?” he said, confused. Huh? You didn’t say anything, though. What was he on about? Well maybe God could just read thoughts, that would made sense.

God grinned. “She called me God, I’ll go with that for now.”

Seven sighed, “Whatever is fine. I need to get back. But Mary, er, I’m going to need a favor from you.”

God got stiff. “No.”

“But you haven’t even heard what it is yet!”

“No!”

“Please go get some groceries for me?”

“Absolutely not!”

“She needs to eat and I need to eat! Come on, you’ve done it before!”

God growled. They both turned back to you suddenly.

“See? She said please!” Seven grinned.

“I’ve put off enough and have my own work to catch up on, I don’t feel like going out again for the fifth time today. And with that stupid bomb thing, the traffic must be crazy!”

Seven sighed, then hesitated.

“So…you would watch her for me while I go, then?”

God scoffed and opened his mouth, then closed it back.

“I…well, only just this once, but I’m not babysitting for you ever again.”

Seven jumped up in a cheer.

“Bless you, Mary! You’re the best maid, ever!”

God didn’t like that.

“Well joke’s on you, as long as she’s here you have no bed. Just get going already and hurry back.”

Seven saluted and bolted to the door. Like lightning, he was gone.

The atmosphere changed when the door closed. God whirled around to stand over you, arms crossing. It was frightening – he was wearing a fashionable and strange outfit, but something about his physique screamed experienced and toned.

“If you do anything fishy – anything weird, I won’t hesitate to end your life and make it so you never existed. Understand? You better not be faking this.”

_Woaw…_

“Because if this is all some weird ploy, my first priority is myself. Seven’s a sap, but I’m not,” he said sternly.

God wasn’t mean, right? This God – or fake God – or Mary, even, didn’t seem benevolent.

“Honestly, how do you even get wrapped up in something like this? You must have the worst luck, as bad as mine,” he sighed, sitting far away from you at the edge of the bed.

You didn’t want to listen anymore. You got up, surprising Mary. “W-what are you doing?” You ignored him and began walking down the short steps – but that was a mistake. Your legs didn’t seem to support you and you fell on your hands and knees.

“You’re injured, don’t do anything stupid,” Mary sighed. You were yanked up back to your feet and stumbled around before Mary gave you the support of his own body. He must be strong since it was only with a single hand. “Lay back down,” he demanded. You pushed away and tried to make your way back to the stairs again. Mary’s hands touched your shoulders, but you tried to shrug them off.

But Mary wasn’t trying to guide you – the hands gripped you and lifted you off the ground entirely. Your feet dangled, shockingly. He placed you back on the bed and pushed you down forcibly.

“I wasn’t really giving you an option. I agreed to babysit and I’m not going to have the baby injure herself on my watch,” Mary grimaced.

“No!” You pushed his hands off and folded your arms. In the short span you knew the strength match up was completely in his favor. But you were still annoyed.

“If you really want to get up you’ll have to form complete sentences, baby,” he yawned.

“You’re being mean,” you whined. Mary’s eyebrows lifted.

“You’re…actually speaking? Honestly I wasn’t expecting that, but alright. Does that mean you’re better now? You remember the explosion?”

That explosion word again. “Yes,” you lied, hoping Mary would let you up now. Mary’s eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah…That was an obvious lie, you don’t. I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice.”

You looked away.

“Going to tell me why you called me…God?” He coughed.

You looked back.

“You’re beautiful like God, you were in my dream…I think.”

Mary stared, intrigued.

“Erm, thanks, I think.” He scratched at his nose, looking away himself.

“You’re not God, though,” you corrected.

Mary chuckled, “I know.”

“So who are you?”

Mary frowned. “Nobody, so don’t worry about it.”

You frowned, too. You reached over and held his hand.

“That’s not true, you’re Seven’s friend, right? So that means you’re my friend, now! What’s your real name?”

Mary’s face turned to confusion.

“You really have no idea what’s going on, do you?”

“Of course I do, I’m visiting my friend Seven’s house and meeting his friend, too.”

Mary paused, deliberating on your statement.

“In that case, you can call me Vanderwood for now.”

 


	2. Day 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MC seems to be recovering nicely - but not nice enough to leave at Seven's house alone. How will she cope with her angry babysitter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. It's sexual.

Seven and Vanderwood had their backs to you, looking up at space. You figured it would be like last time, if you moved forward, they’d get further away. But you took a chance anyway. The shooting star came to tear apart the sky, but now that ‘God’ was only Vanderwood, you wondered if things would be different.

And they were. He reached up and plucked the star right out of the sky as Seven continued looking up. It shot little specs of light in his hand as if he were holding a sparkler. “Beautiful!” You called out, not expecting a response. But Vanderwood turned around to look you in the eyes and began walking forward.

“Mary?” He kept walking until your face was in his chest. “Mary?”

The name kept being called until you finally opened your eyes. You looked up to see a sleeping Vanderwood laying on your bed with your head on his chest. You turned to see Seven standing over top both of you, completely unable and unwilling to hide even a fraction of his grin.

Vanderwood groaned, then shot upright, head swishing to see Seven. “Ah! What? What?” He sounded bewildered, and you noticed his hands clenching. He turned to look at you, confused. Then, the realization came across his face. “Ah, shit.” He quickly got up and stormed past Seven, stretching as he went.

“Mary where are you going?” Seven called, laughing and following after him. “Fuck off, 707!” was his only response as he went towards the door. “Enjoy your sleep? You may as well stay then! Ahaha!” Vanderwood whirled around on him, one hand holding his belt. “Don’t make me tase you! I really won’t hesitate to do it! God! Why didn’t you wake me up as soon as you got back, idiot? How long were you out? I was waiting forever! What a waste of time! I’m never babysitting again!”

Something about it hurt.

“Ma-ry, come on. I’m kidding! Thank you very much for your help. Um, but I’ll need it again?” Seven was already holding his palms together and grinning. “Absolutely – positively – not!” Vanderwood shouted.

“It’s super important! And I made you breakfast! At least think it over?” Seven said, exaggerating a pouting face.

You sniffed – something did smell good. “Pancakes?” You called. Seven’s smile faded, then jumped back on his lips. “MC? You’re talking!”

He ran up to you, then cautiously touched your forehead again. The act made you think of something, but the memory was fuzzy.

“Yeah, she was a chatterbox last night,” Vanderwood yawned, reaching for the door handle.

“A-ah! Wait, Mary, at least eat first. I feel bad for last night. Please? I made a lot.” Vanderwood sighed and let go of the door. “Fine, but just breakfast.” He grumbled off to the kitchen, stretching again.

Seven turned back to you. “What do you remember, MC?” Apartment. Unknown. But what about them? You were stumped. “Was there an explosion, Seven?” It was time to know the truth. Something was wrong, but you didn’t know what. You had enough of skating around the issue. You had to go back home eventually, even though your head was bandaged and tender for some reason.

“Yes, you were hurt. So you’re staying here with me, because…it was my fault, and I should take responsibility for you. It’s important you stay here until I figure some things out, alright? Can you trust me to do that?”

“Of course Seven, you’re one of my best friends,” you said, cheerfully. Seven searched your eyes for something, but you figured he found it because he turned around to check that Vanderwood was indeed in the kitchen. “Glad to hear. Be nice to Mary, please.” You watched him quickly leave, curious as to what he was getting from outside.

“Seven this is awful, the consistency is all wrong!” Vanderwood complained, walking back out to the main room with a plate of pancakes and chewing. “You can hack into government secrets and—,” he paused when he noticed you and finished gulping down what was in his mouth. “I mean, you can do computer stuff but you can’t make a good pancake?” He looked around and then left his eyes on you. “Uh, where did he go?”

The rev of an engine caused him to run to the door and open it with his free hand. The garage was closing back, Seven was already gone.

“Un – fucking – believable,” Vanderwood said flatly.

“Un – fucking – believable!” He yelled, then started laughing. Uh oh, he was mad.

He whistled and strolled back to the kitchen. You followed. Vanderwood plopped down and continued eating silently, calmly. You made your own plate and joined him, avoiding eye contact. The sounds of silverware eating became the background noise until you both finished and remained seated in the two small chairs.

“So, what, you remember everything yet? Can I just go?”

You got up to return your dishes to the sink, picking up Vanderwood’s as you went.

“I don’t need to be babysat, if you hate being here so much, go.”

When he didn’t reply, you cleared your throat, “I’m fine, now.”

You sat back down in your seat, awkwardly waiting a reply.

“What do you remember from last night?” He finally said.

You thought back, although it hurt just slightly. “Well you’re Vanderwood and we were talking about, um, what we wanted to do when we grew up.”

Vanderwood strummed his fingers on the table, facial expression very collected and unchanging. “And?”

You didn’t know. It was fuzzy for some reason. That’s strange, it was only last night.

Vanderwood smiled, much to your confusion. “Good, so we can keep talking then if you’re not going to remember much. This is way more fun.” What was that supposed to mean?

“Why can’t I remember, Vanderwood?” You asked.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s a permanent injury.”

You touched your head again and winced. “Permanent injury?” You stood up, looking around for a mirror to finally get a good look at your head.

“Ah, um, I was kidding. Where are you going, MC?”

You ran off, looking for what looked like a bathroom. The house was small, but roomy. Where could it be? You spotted a door with a bunch of caution tape on it. You walked to it, but hesitated.

“That’s the bathroom,” Vanderwood called out, watching from afar. You opened it and ran in. You looked into the mirror and gasped – bandages covered your entire head, a light pink tinge was even seeping through. You had scratches all over your face and neck. But what about everywhere else? You began stripping immediately, afraid of what you might find. You used the mirror to spin around looking for more injuries. It seemed the only places you found scratches were on exposed skin – but wow, how did you get this way? Your clothes were scratched up, torn, and there were still bruises in random spots. You really did look like you just came out of an explosion. Your lip quivered, what the heck happened to you?

Apartment.

But what about it…

You shook the thought and turned on the water for the shower. Everything was fine, you just needed a good rinse to really clean out whatever the heck happened to you.

You stood for 20 minutes.

Then you squatted for 10.

Then you sat down.

And then Vanderwood was shaking you awake.

“What the hell, woman?” He yelled, causing the pit of your stomach to grumble in fear.

“So you were wrong, I do have to babysit. Thanks for scaring the shit out of me!” He groaned.

You watched the water drip down his face as he glared at you. “You’re like an angel,” you laughed. His glare turned to confusion. “W-what? Would you quit joking around and get decent?”

Decent?

You looked down. Oh.

“W-what are you doing! Don’t touch me when I’m naked! Why are you even in here?”

Vanderwood rolled his eyes and stood up, taking you up with him and keeping a firm grip on your wrist lest you slip.

“I know what a naked female looks like, OK? Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Let go, pervert!” You screamed, trying to shake him off.

“You were trying to kill yourself in my colleague’s _shower_!”

“Pervert! Big, big pervert!”

“Would you just stop – you’re going to-! Hey!”

You both screamed as you both slipped back into the tub.

“Shit! Shit, MC! What the hell! Are you OK? Did you break anything?” His voice wasn’t angry, but his face was. You sat on your ass in the tub with Vanderwood on top, still gripping your wrist.

“My head…” You groaned. The shower head’s water continued dripping down on both of you, making Vanderwood’s hair stick to his face and blinding him. His hand clumsily reached over to finally turn off the faucet. He sighed, parting his hair.

“Shit, your head?” He sat up and gently started to remove the bandages on your head. Did he forget he was nearly on top of you, naked in a tub?

You weren’t sure what he saw, but he sighed and began wrapping them back.

“Well obviously we’re going to need some dry bandages but it doesn’t seem like anything was opened. There’s no new blood, so that’s good.”

“Um, thanks,” you muttered out, regretting your rash actions now.

“What was that?” He said coolly.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” you gulped.

“Yeah well thanks for messing up my clothes,” he retorted.

“Well just take them off, then,” you huffed.

Wait.

Vanderwood stared down at you, and you felt your cheeks go hot.

“Uh, I-,” you began.

But he just laughed, moving more hair out of his face.

“Are you coming onto me?” He laughed, sheer amusement dancing in his voice.

It was embarrassing.

“No! I was just, I was just being a smartass!”

So embarrassing, but, at least you got him to laugh. It was a pleasant and unexpected sound and you weren’t sure whether you were mortified or delighted.

Vanderwood turned his head away from you to look at the door, as if he was expecting something. You were inclined to follow his gaze. It lasted only a moment before he turned back to you and leaned his face in, surprising you. He kept it there, his expression flat while your own heartbeat sped up.

“OK, stop making fun of me,” you managed to mumble out.

“Maybe I’m not making fun of you,” he replied.

Your breath labored. “What?”

 “Just get out of the tub,” he sighed. He pulled his face away and stood up, pulling you up firmly with him.

“I’ll grab some of Seven’s clothes, just hold on a second.”

He walked out, still moving hair out of his face.

What?

You waited only a moment until the chill of the cool air pricked at your skin. You walked out of the bathroom to find him, instead.

Vanderwood was back at Seven’s bed, pulling out a box underneath it. It was full of neatly folded clothes, but Vanderwood opened them up one-by-one to look at their measurements. You stood behind him to watch, wondering why they all looked nearly identical. “I thought I told you to hold on,” Vanderwood sighed, not turning around. “You didn’t need to put back on those dirty clothes, I said I,” he trailed off when he turned to look at you.

You were naked.

He turned back and stood up, holding onto the latest shirt he pulled out. “What are you doing, woman?” Vanderwood sighed. You didn’t really know what to say for yourself. “Um, I thought I could help, since I know my size the best.” It was mostly honest.

He turned around, and you felt small as he looked down on you. “Fine,” he sighed.

He grabbed your waist and spun you back on the bed before you could even figure out where you were.

“Was this your intention the whole time?” He asked, cold eyes baring down into yours. He pinned you, his strong arms holding your own down.

“I haven’t done this in a long time, is that alright?”

You nodded, unable to find words.

His lips found yours easily – it was a sweet kiss, feeling completely out of place with the sheer force he was pinning you down with. But it ended as soon as it began, he took the shirt still in his possession and tied your hands together – tightly.

“I know it’s tight, it’s for the best,” he muttered. He licked down your chest, in-between your breasts and to the bellybutton. He moved back up and lolled his mouth around your right nipple while his left hand twisted the left. Both sensations felt good, and it was almost distracting to your mind. He nudged a knee up between your legs, spreading them apart easily.

He sighed audibly. “God, what am I doing? What am I doing?” Vanderwood grumbled and continued, switching his mouth to the other nipple and his hand. He rubbed his knee gently against your clit and you grunted. The material in his pants was surprisingly smooth, but it was still rough on you.

He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it behind him. You stared – fully chiseled abs, but old scars and newer-looking scars covered everywhere the eyes could see. Was he in a gang? His free hand rubbed down your chest and kept going.

And going.

Until he stopped right before he was personally touching your clit. “You want this?” He asked, exasperated. You nodded. The finger grazed the entrance, moving back and forth gently between teasing the clit and the opening. “Tell me you want it,” he asked again, more forcefully.

“I…want it,” you admitted.

The finger rubbed over the clit as soon as he got what he wanted. Your moans started off quietly, then got louder as he sped up both his rubbing and his fondling of your chest. But you couldn’t move. He held you down easily, even as you struggled with pleasure. He suddenly moved down, gripping your legs and holding them apart. He licked around your entrance. The teasing made you almost whine as you struggled against him.

He would get close to the clit, then back away again. Once. Twice. Thrice. You screamed out.

“Please, please stop teasing me.” You were embarrassed again, but you wanted it. You needed it.

So he gave it to you. His tongue seemed longer than before as it completely covered your clit, its warmness melting onto you and still giving pressure. He stuffed his face with your pussy, hungrily eating away and sucking at the clit.

“Fuck, fuck,” you cried weakly, before getting louder. Then, you gasped. A finger had stuck itself inside you as Vanderwood continued on. You looked down to see Vanderwood peering up. You couldn’t handle it and looked away.

All movement stopped. “Look at me,” he demanded. You turned back, surprised. But then he continued, not breaking eye contact.

“Fu-ck,” you moaned out as he sped up, his piercing gaze locked down on you.

“Van…Van…” You weren’t sure what you wanted to tell him. To stop? To keep going? To go faster?

He decided on his own, thrusting more fingers inside.

“Shit, shit,” you screamed out.

“Say my name,” he demanded, loudly.

“Vand, Vanderwood, Vanderwood,” you cried, throwing your head back.

“Look at me.”

As soon as you looked back down, it was over. The feeling of release came over you. Your legs twitched and Vanderwood slowed down, still keeping eye contact with you.

“Oh my god…” You gasped.

He stood up from you, expression still neutral. Then, a small smirk.

“Well let’s just hope Seven doesn’t have cameras inside his room, too,” Vanderwood chuckled. He stood up completely, sliding out of the bed. He looked to the floor and picked up his shirt, but didn’t put it on. You managed to finally find your words again. “Wait, um, Vanderwood. Don’t you want me to, um, don’t you want a turn?”

Vanderwood cracked his neck and didn’t turn back to you. “I’m alright,” he said with a grunt. Then, he walked off back to the kitchen.

What the heck just happened?

You felt bad for not reciprocating, maybe you tasted…weird? But you just showered. Your whole body continued feeling warm, now you were unsure if it was the intimacy or your own embarrassment.

“Seven really has nothing but chips!” Exclaimed Vanderwood from inside the kitchen. You heard the banging of pans and water beginning to run. Was he…washing Seven’s dishes? You should probably go help him, keep it casual. You moved to get up, then stopped. Oh, the shirt was still on your hands. You started wrestling them free, but it didn’t budge. Wait, what the hell? How tight was this thing? Were you really stuck?

It was just a shirt, there was no way you were actually stuck. But you continued struggling, even using your mouth to try and loosen the knot.

Nothing worked. You were stuck.

“Erm, uh, Vanderwood?” You called out.

He didn’t seem to hear you over the water and pans.

You slid out of the bed instead and walked to the kitchen.

Indeed, Vanderwood was cleaning Seven’s dishes – his shirt slung over his shoulder. Even his back muscles seemed to bulge, how impressive.

“Eh?” Vanderwood said, head glancing back at you. He looked to your tied hands and grinned before turning back to the dishes.

You puffed your cheeks. “H-hey! Help me take these off, why’d you put them so tight?”

He hummed and ignored you.

You pushed your shoulder into his back. “Take it off!” It came out as a whine, but it really was a bit annoying to your skin.

He turned the water off and put the last clean dish on the counter to dry. Vanderwood turned back and folded his arms, one eyebrow raised.

“How weak are you? You can’t take off a single shirt tied around your hands? That’s pretty bad,” he sighed, but you could tell he was having fun with you.

“Yeah well I’m not in a gang or whatever like you, I don’t need to be super tough,” you huffed, trying to fold your arms too but failing miserably. Both his eyebrows raised up.

“Oh? A gang member? Is that what you think I am?”

You weren’t sure.

“Well why are you so strong and why do you have all those scars then?” You asked, genuinely concerned about his well-being.

“If I tell you, will you forget?” He asked, the hint of a smile still on his lips. But his eyes…

It was starting to make sense. “Um, this head injury, is it making me forget things? Is that why you’re babysitting me?”

He didn’t answer, still looking down at you.

“Oh my god, did I, um, did I forget you? I don’t have amnesia, right?”

The thought was scary, but plausible. It would explain a couple things, but you remembered most of last week. There was no way you had something serious. All that was missing was the mysterious explosion and the image of an apartment that kept floating on the outskirts of your consciousness.

“I wouldn’t take advantage of a lady like that. No, you didn’t know me before,” he answered.

“But the amnesia…” You pressed.

Vanderwood finally unfolded his arms and gently pulled you closer. He started untying the knots, shrugging. “Um, I don’t really know. You seem forgetful though, yes. Seven said he just met you when…” Vanderwood trailed off, his mouth twisting as he thought.

“He just met me, huh? Seven’s an old friend, you mean we met somewhere recently that I can’t remember? Like near the explosion?”

He pulled the shirt off your hands entirely and you sighed in relief. “Oh, much better!” You playfully flicked at his chest and smiled, but it faded instantly when you saw Vanderwood’s neutral expression.

“You’re dangerous.”

“What?”

“We can’t do that again,” he clarified.

“What? Oh, yeah, no problem…”

You assumed he was talking about the sexual encounter, and your nakedness began feeling too revealing. He allowed you to gently remove the shirt from his hands and put it on. It was extremely loose, but at least it covered everywhere important.

Vanderwood put his own shirt on and headed out of the kitchen towards Seven’s computers.

“Did I do something wrong?” You asked, following behind him.

“No.”

“You got really cold all of a sudden?”

He sat down in Seven’s seat and began clicking through different monitors. It all looked completely alien – code, binary numbers, folders, and articles covered every screen.

“You understand all this? Wow, you must be smart, too,” you grinned. You weren’t sure what any of this had to do with videogames but Seven worked at home, it made sense that he was into computer science things. It may have even been work.

“Not all of it,” Vanderwood muttered. “Honestly he’s so unorganized.”

Oh, maybe it wasn’t supposed to look so cluttered. Vanderwood stopped clicking and pulled out his phone from his pocket. He clicked a number and put it to his ear.

“707, you have five seconds to tell me what the hell your problem is and when you’re coming back….No, no, I don’t care, just tell me when….Yeah, that’s not soon enough. MC is waiting for you, it’s rude to leave a guest at your own house with a stranger….No…No…Seriously, dude? You could’ve told me that before leaving, you really owe me….No, and I’m probably going to tase you for it, later, so consider if that was worth it…Yeah….What was that?”

The opportunity was too easy – you went for it. You leaned in near the phone to moan out, “Van-dy…”

You could hear the exclaim from 707 on the other end and tried to hold in laughter as Vanderwood stood up, moving the phone to his other ear. He glared down at you and you held your hands over your mouth to hide your obvious glee.

“707, don’t even – shut up, I’ll kill you myself. Don’t bother coming home if you’re going to laugh. Argh!”

He hung up and thrust the phone back into his pocket.

“Don’t get mad at him, I was joking! I won’t tell Seven anything!” You laughed.

Vanderwood wasn’t laughing. Was he actually mad? The uncertainty was beginning to chip away at the fun.

He plopped back down in the chair and started clicking away again.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I thought we were all friends here. I was just joking…”

Vanderwood spun around in the chair, his expression turning downwards. Uh oh. He reached forward until his hands were on your arms, and then he suddenly snatched you forward to fall onto his lap. His lips pressed heavily into yours, and you went stiff, then relaxed. Hungrily, he tasted you, this time using just a little tongue to tease into your mouth.

He sighed and pulled away, letting go of your arms to cover his own face with his hands.

“Um?” You started.

“Fuck – fuck,” he grumbled.

“I’m so horny and then you just moan that shit into my ear,” he half-said, half-shouted. He moved his hands down his face, staring up at the ceiling. “God dammit, god dammit.”

What was he so upset about? You both seemed to be having fun together. Feeling a bit brave from the effect you were having on him, you cleared your throat and began playing with his hair. “Um, well, you don’t have to be horny if you let me help you?”

He removed your hands from him and looked into your eyes.

“No. Now up.” You slipped off of him, confused by his want to deny himself when he so clearly admitted he needed more.

Vanderwood spun back around to the computer, muttering under his breath.

“Just don’t, OK?” He sighed. “I need to get started on this since Seven is MIA, so let me work.”

You frowned and returned to the bed, looking for your phone. “Fine, whatever.”

You picked it up and clicked the RFA app. Access was still denied everywhere – what the heck did Seven do? But there was a new message. You clicked it – it was from Seven himself.

“If anything happens or you get any strange messages, call me immediately. I hope you’re well, make sure Mary feeds you. I’m sorry about leaving.”

You smiled, feeling a bit more appreciated. You weren’t exactly sure what was going on, but with Vanderwood and Seven having your back, you knew you’d remember it all in no time.

Everything was going to be just fine. It wasn’t like your life was actually in danger anymore, you were only a little banged up, so what was the worst that could happen?


	3. Day 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worst happens. Where is Seven? Why won't Vanderwood tell MC anything? With no access to the RFA or the outside world, things are getting more complicated. Memories are returning to MC, but now they're not adding up. How will she deal with it all? How will she deal with her strange, new relationship with the dangerous Mr. Vanderwood?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this chapter is considerably longer than the previous two. Also: Guns, blood, violence, sexual acts.

It was only 2AM when Vanderwood shook you awake. “Huh? Vandy?” He hauled you up before you could even rub your eyes. Easily, he slung you over his shoulder with a grunt. The lights were still off – what was happening?

“What’s going on?”

“Ssh!”

You shut up, feeling a bit afraid. He opened the door to the garage and walked a few steps before sliding you into the passenger seat of a fancy-looking car. You still didn’t have any underwear on and clumsily pulled your—well, Seven’s—long shirt further down you.

“Eep!”

Vanderwood jumped clean over you into the driver’s seat and stuck the key in the ignition. It was hard to see what was happening, but Vanderwood turned in his seat as he backed out of the driveway. He clicked a button in the car and the automatic garage door began closing back. And then you both were gone on the road into the night. He took one hand off the wheel and clicked in his seatbelt, and you copied him.

You stayed quiet, wondering when he’d start explaining himself.

Oh crap, your phone. Hopefully you could both be back soon. Did you leave it on the charger? Ah, it was fuzzy. Why was it fuzzy?

You looked up into the sky and smiled—it was beautiful, just like your recent space dreams. The stars glistened wonderfully, you could even make out colors. The chilly night air didn’t seem to be as much of a bother with such a gorgeous sight.

“Not asking any questions?” Vanderwood finally said. You looked up, his hair was whipping in the wind and he was very focused on the drive ahead. It was hard to see his expression with all the brown strands whipping around the side of his face, but he seemed relaxed enough for you to think the situation wasn’t dangerous anymore.

“You told me to be quiet, so I listened,” you admitted shyly.

But he chuckled.

“I guess I did tell you to shush,” he sighed, moving some hair out of his face. “Mind if I put the hood up?” He asked.

“Oh, of course,” you said, not sure why he was being so considerate. He pushed a single button and the visor began covering the car – the long shadow making the dark night look even less illuminated. You stared up as the stars disappeared from your sky.

“Um, so what’s going on?”

“That depends. How much do you remember today?”

You leaned your head back, wincing at the slight tinge of pain. This was the hardest part – not the pain, but the uncertainty of your own mind.

“Does…does it matter how much I remember? Why don’t we just enjoy the day as it is?” You didn’t mean to avoid his question, but the idea of a permanent injury that resembled dementia scared you. You remember Vanderwood saying he was just joking, but it was too late to take back the idea he’d given you. Vanderwood, for now, was your only link to the truth. You had no choice but to trust him – and that was only because Seven trusts him. But…You couldn’t remember much about Seven, could you? Were you two actually close friends like you thought, despite not knowing much about him?

It was enough to overwhelm anyone.

“Maybe, MC. But for now, just answer the question…Please.”

His pause before the please made you smile. So he was being considerate, it wasn’t just a fluke. You decided to be honest.

Vanderwood interrupted you as you opened your mouth, “Um, starting from the apartment, actually. The explosion.”

_Explosion._

It came in a flash.

You running out of the apartment, you trying to cover your head when a large force pushed you completely off of your feet and down the rest of the stairwell. There was Seven’s worried face when you looked at him from the backseat of his car, staring straight ahead at the mirror. There was Seven again dripping water into your mouth as you laid in his bed, and him on the phone nearly yelling and panicking.

You survived an apartment explosion. Why did it explode? Why was Seven there? A creepy, distorted voice echoed in your head. Unknown. Unknown? Who was that? A name? You gripped your aching head and closed your eyes, trying to remember more. Something about a party came to mind. Were you and Seven on the way to a party? You were getting ready for a party?

“Don’t hurt yourself, MC,” Vanderwood said, causing you to open your eyes.

“I remember the explosion, and Seven getting me after. I think we were going to a party, so that’s why he was nearby,” you explained.

Vanderwood made a “hmm” noise.

 _Oh._ You smiled.

“And I remember the first night now, with you.”

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

“You really have no idea what’s going on, do you?”

“Of course I do, I’m visiting my friend Seven’s house and meeting his friend, too.”

Mary paused, deliberating on your statement.

“In that case, you can call me Vanderwood for now.”

“Vanderwood? That’s a fancy name,” you laughed. Everything was foggy and painful, but you enjoyed the strange company. It was nice to have a new acquaintance, even under the peculiar circumstances. You felt like you were drunk, if you had to think of a similar feeling to compare it to. Thoughts came and went, you kind of said what came to mind. You felt free, you felt happy. It was as if you were at a private sleepover. You felt you could accept and tell Vanderwood anything.

“I’m MC,” you told him, without waiting to see if he’d even ask. Maybe he already knew about you? You were close with Seven, so maybe he’s mentioned you before.

“Um, hello MC,” chimed Vanderwood, staring at you and letting you continue holding his gloved hands. Gloved hands?

“Do you have pretty nails, too?”

“What?”

You finally moved your hands to point at his.

“People who wear gloves care about their hands. You have pretty nails? Can I see?”

Vanderwood followed your eyes down.

“Uh, I just like to keep my hands clean.”

“See?”

“That’s my hands, not specifically my fingernails. You think I wear nail polish or something?”

What a pretty face – you could believe it. It would match him!

“Would you stop talking about my face? It’s embarrassing,” he sighed.

Hm? Could he read minds? He wasn’t God, right? Just a friend?

“People don’t talk about your face often?”

Vanderwood began massaging his temples. “No, not in my line of work.”

“That’s a shame,” you sighed.

He coughed and suddenly stood up. “Alright, off to bed. You’re clearly delirious.”

“Hm, Mary?”

His eyes narrowed and he leaned in close over you, “ _Vanderwood_. Vanderwood is what you call me, alright?”

“Oh! That’s a fancy name!”

His mouth gaped open, then he crossed his arms.

“You some kind of druggie? You’re not messing with me, right? You’re scaring me.”

“You’re so handsome, I want to kiss you,” you giggled. You already didn’t remember his question.

His face was starting to get red, you liked it.

“Ooh! God can get embarrassed? But why?”

“You are incredibly forward,” Vanderwood grimaced, closing his eyes.

“Forward? Forward where?” You smiled wide, “Will we be marching?”

Vanderwood scoffed, then laughed, peeking to look at you. “Well I’ll be damned, you’re actually gone.”

Hm? You were hungry. You reached for the bag of chips, hitting your hand on the dresser.

“Ow…”

Vanderwood rolled his eyes and picked it up himself, opening it and handing it to you. “You can eat, right? God you look awful, how’d he even manage to steal you from the scene? There must’ve been dozens of victims, I guess.”

You had no idea what he was talking about. Steal? Victims? Maybe Vanderwood was an all-seeing God type. You chewed slowly on a chip, finding it rather difficult. You swallowed and frowned, that was painful too.

“I’m not God. God would never waste his time doing something so disgusting as to willingly feed those awful processed chips to someone.”

“They taste good,” you said, finding yourself willing to defend them before even 60 seconds passed since you first put one in your mouth.

“That doesn’t mean they aren’t awful for you. Honestly, Seven wishes for death keeping all these around. How depressing,” he sighed.

“Well I’m going to waste some time and work I guess, don’t kill yourself somehow, please.” And with that, Vanderwood floated gracefully down the stairs and to Seven’s computers.

Frowning, you put the chips back on the dresser. You didn’t wish for death, even if it tasted like honey and barbecue.

You slipped out of bed, but your legs wobbled. You got on your hands and knees instead, reminding yourself of a dog. You giggled. Woof, woof. You crawled down the stairs and over to Vanderwood, sitting behind him.

“Are you bark—,“ He turned and saw you sitting. He swung himself back around, typing away. “You and Seven will get along just great!”

He didn’t sound happy about that?

“Of course not, you’re pretending to be an animal!”

“Stop reading my thoughts,” you said, finally annoyed.

“Eh?”

“It’s rude,” you raspberried, sticking your tongue out and crossing your arms.

Vanderwood slowly turned the chair around once more, hands folding onto his legs.

“Do you mind?” His words were polite, but his voice was threatening.

“Mind what?”

“Not being a child or a dog, but a lady who needs her rest.”

You crawled forward and put your head on his lap.

“Put me to rest then,” you grinned, winking. His face went red again.

“Alright, that’s it,” he stood up and snatched you off the floor, slinging you over his shoulder. “Stop trying to seduce me you delirious brat!”

“That hurts,” you moaned as he walked quickly back to the bed. “Yeah well it’s going to hurt a lot more if you keep moving around and re-open anything.”

He hovered you over the bed and you gripped onto him harder. “Alright, in you go, please.”

“No.” You buried your face into his hair and moved your arms around his neck.

You could feel his chest heave out a sigh. But he stood there, presumably waiting for your arms to get tired and fall down into the bed.

“I am never babysitting again,” he muttered.

“You’ve babysat before?”

His arms suddenly separated yours in a quick move you didn’t catch, causing you to fall down into the bed. “You’d be a great babysitter,” you followed up.

Vanderwood raised an eyebrow. “Because I’m clearly handling you so well,” he scoffed.

“Yes,” you smiled. “Did you want to be a teacher when you grew up?”

Vanderwood frowned. “I didn’t really have dreams when I was young, so no.”

“I bet you were such a handsome boy, you could’ve been an actor.”

“I didn’t really have a choice to be anything, but thanks anyway.”

You continued smiling anyway and reached to hold his gloved hand. “Hey, that’s OK. It’s never too late to start over.”

He sat down on the bed, holding his chin with his free hand and not looking at you. “I wish I was carefree like you, I wish I really could start over.”

“It’s not too late. What do you wish you could be right now?”

“Free,” he sighed.

“What’s holding you back from being free right now?”

He grumbled something you couldn’t understand. Instead, you began pulling off his glove. Vanderwood ignored the movement, lost in thought.

You laid the glove on the bed and inspected his fingernails. They were perfectly manicured, but his hand seemed bigger than you thought it’d be. They were soft to the touch, but hard. Was Vanderwood really muscular? You looked over at him, curious to what he looked like with his clothes off.

“When I grow up, I want to be happy.”

Vanderwood finally turned his head to you. “Well congratulations, you’re grown up and you look pretty happy to me right now.”

“Because you’re fun.”

“I’ve literally never heard that said about me in my entire life, you weirdo.”

“You should babysit more often, then.”

“I don’t know what that means,” he said, scratching his head. “But you probably don’t either.”

“You don’t know what you mean either,” you retorted.

“Eh?”

“Be free with me and Seven,” you laughed.

“Seven isn’t exactly free, either.”

“Maybe. But he laughs and has fun and people say he’s fun and he can be really happy!”

“I guess he has me there, huh? Though that will probably be what gets him killed.”

“Everybody dies someday, but not everybody lives.”

“Wow, that’s…profound.”

“You’re cute.”

“A-nd it’s gone,” he sighed. “Do you even remember my name this time?”

“God,” you whispered.

A small smile cracked his lips. “Sure,” he relented. “And as your God, you should obey me and go to sleep, ok?”

You frowned and clasped his ungloved hand between yours. “Sing me to sleep.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Hug, then?”

He deflated, staring into your eyes. But you continued smiling, unwavering. Vanderwood finally removed his hand from yours and slipped his glove back on. “If I…hug you, you’ll finally go to sleep?”

You nodded enthusiastically before wincing and holding your pained head.

He sighed and scooted further on the bed, looking away as he awkwardly opened his arms to you. You cheered and brought him in. “You’re my favorite,” you whispered. “Uh huh,” he mumbled.

“You’re not going to fall asleep like this, right?” Vanderwood asked, wrapping his arms around you.

“Of course not,” you giggled.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

You looked over at Vanderwood, replaying the first night over and over. Your cheeks flushed thinking of yesterday. You were embarrassed at your behavior, would you have ever been so bold without the side effects of medication and an explosion? What did he think of you now?

“I feel like I’m myself again,” you explained. You hesitated and continued, “But, um, I don’t regret anything.” You hoped Vanderwood got the message without you having to go into detail.

“I see.”

It wasn’t the response you were hoping for, but at least he didn’t say that he regretted anything.

“I’m sorry for barking at you,” you laughed.

You watched the corners of his mouth twitch up. “You haven’t failed to be entertaining, that’s for sure.”

Vanderwood suddenly veered off the smooth road and you held onto the door handle as the bumpiness of rocks kicked at your seat. “V-Vanderwood?”

He didn’t say anything, moving around a boulder and parking the car. He shut the engine off and suddenly it was pitch black. It looked like trees were around you, maybe the edge of a forest nearby.

His bright eyes twinkled, like they were stars themselves in the darkness, and looked over to you. You heard him unclick his seatbelt and the eyes got closer, before he whispered, “Take off your seatbelt and stay low. If I’m not back in 10 minutes, turn the car on and drive straight to the city.” You felt his hand press a small and cold object into your hand. “And call Seven with this, no password is on it.”

“Vanderwood I’m scared, let’s just go now, together. You never explained anything!”

You felt his forehead touch yours, then pull away. “Being scared doesn’t work in this business.”

The door opened and closed, the two beautiful stars vanishing into the night. Your heartbeat sped up, as you mulled over his words. He’s said that before, right? Did he ever deny being a gangster? Seven was friends with a dangerous gangster? Wait, didn’t you just get head from a dangerous gangster? _Shit_.

The idea of Vanderwood dying terrified you more than him being a gangster. You didn’t know him well, but you felt so close to him already. You didn’t merit a funeral invitation, but you felt you needed to be there. You tried to calm down and focus on your breathing. You felt so bad, would you have to be the one explaining to Seven that you left his friend to die in some random gang fight? Tears welled up in your eyes. No, you wouldn’t leave him even if 10 minutes passed. You moved to use the phone as a flashlight, then decided against it. The light would be a dead giveaway of your location. How were you going to help him? You moved your hand around you to feel the car until you touched a latch. The glove box?

You opened it and felt inside – there was something long and cool alongside some papers. You picked it up, feeling that it was a bit heavy. You felt around it and froze. This was a gun. Holy shit, a real _gun_? You pointed it away from you, scared you’d be clumsy enough to unload it on yourself. Well, now you had some protection. But could you even bring yourself to fire a gun into a living, breathing human being? Wouldn’t that be painful? You shook your head, well _duh_ it’d be painful. The point was to kill, you were pretty sure the feeling of dying sucked.

You took a deep breath, then opened the car door. You shut it back, gently, awkwardly squatting on the ground and holding the gun down. How the hell could Vanderwood even see in this darkness?

You heard some shuffling near the trees and zipped your head to look. But you couldn’t see anything just yet. _Breathe, just breathe._

You stayed low, moving away from the shuffling and behind a tree. You didn’t want to have to use the gun unless absolutely necessary, your first mission was to find your friend and have his back if he needed you.

You heard the shuffling again – then a short-lived scream. That wasn’t Vanderwood, right? You moved slowly towards the noises, sticking to the trees as shelter. The shuffling got louder and you weren’t sure if you could even go forward. What the hell were you doing? You weren’t a spy, you had no training, all you could do was probably hurt yourself.

The shuffling stopped, so you did too. Was it over?

No. A hand gripped your throat, and the other slapped your hand. The gun fell instantly, and you along with it as you were taken into the dirt. You couldn’t even scream, the pressure was too tight. A blue light illuminated your face and you winced. Then, the light was gone. You were pulled up by your shirt and pressed back into the tree. The golden brown stars looked down at you. You were relieved, but the intense stare made the feeling brief. Although nothing was on your throat, you still felt like you were being choked.

Vanderwood grabbed your hand and led you back to the car. You both remained silent, feet shuffling across the grass. He opened the car door and you got in, watching him close it back and fade back into the night. You sighed. At least he was alright. A hand brushed against your right shoulder and you screamed. But it was too late, the hand clasped over your face, muffling anything further and another appeared on your left, holding a gun.

“Quiet, or I’ll blow your brains out right now.” Your breath labored, but you listened. The man slid from the backseat into the driver’s seat, never taking the gun off of you. Now would’ve been a good time to have Vanderwood’s gun, but you weren’t sure what help it would’ve been since he had the advantage on you. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to open our doors, walk around, and switch sides. You’re going to start the car and drive where I tell you. Alright?”

You nodded.

So you were going to leave Vanderwood after all.

“Now go.”

You both opened your respective door. He walked towards the front, so you took the long way and went around the back. That’s when you got the idea. He couldn’t see you, so you kicked the taillight, unsure if the impulsive reaction would work. But the car started beeping and the man glared. “Get in! Get in, idiot!”

You ran to the driver’s side, fumbling with the door. The man reached over and pushed it open for you instead and you slid in, closing the door back. “Turn it on and let’s get on the road. Move!” You fumbled with the weird ignition in the expensive car, the barrel of the gun pressed into your head now as the man angrily berated you for not going quicker. “I’m letting you live, idiot! You never drove a car before?”

It finally roared to life and the beeping stopped. “Now drive!” You reached for the gas pedal – but failed. “I’m too short, I can’t reach it.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding m—,” the passenger side door swung open and the man’s gun went flying out of his hands with a loud bang. You screamed, covering your face. He was dragged out and reached for your leg, scratching it.

“Vanderwood!” The man yelled. You uncovered your face, looking over. Vanderwood stood over the sitting man on the grass, gun pointed at his head. “You can’t kill me, Vanderwood!” He screamed. You weren’t sure if that was a fact or pleading. But Vanderwood responded by stuffing the gun back under his coat.

The man laughed out, but it was short-lived. Vanderwood’s fist found itself lodged into his mouth – making the laugh into a bloody gurgle instead. He howled in pain, but that was only for a moment too. Vanderwood used his other hand to mash the man’s head into the bottom of the car. The man flailed, pulling at Vanderwood’s coat desperately. He responded by kicking his boot into his groin and twisting it. The man fell over and Vanderwood kicked him away. Shaking, you opened the car door and nearly tripped into the boulder. Vanderwood walked over to you, not making eye contact. The stars moved past you to look into the car. He took out the man’s gun and wiped it off on his pants. There was a bullet hole on it. He walked back to the man and tossed it on top of him. Vanderwood returned to the driver’s side, and pointed you to get in. You nodded and darted back, gingerly stepping over the unconscious man to get in the passenger’s side.

You sat there after closing the door and strapped yourself back in. Vanderwood clicked in his seatbelt and you both took back off into the night. Fear gripped you as you took in the new sight. Vanderwood was the same as before, focused on the drive ahead, but with tiny splatters of blood freckling his face and sleeves.

The drive was long, you couldn’t bring yourself to talk so leaned your head against the window to watch the stars drift by. But, even they seemed dark now.  The stars faded into city lights and you felt uncomfortable, wondering if anyone could see red tinge on the car door. What if someone pulled you both over? You didn’t know what you’d say, nothing felt real.

Vanderwood pulled down a poorly lit street and you lifted your head from the window when the car started going over gravel. But it didn’t last long and the car stalled at an intersection. A nice apartment complex, impressive even, sat across the street. Was Vanderwood well off? Well, if he was making illegal money…

He pulled into the closed community, flashing a card and waiting for the gates to open. Once in, he drove off into what looked like a giant garage. It opened once he got near it and Vanderwood gently backed up into a parking space available at the opposite end of the garage’s entrance. He turned off the engine and stepped out of the car. You followed suit, making sure to avoid seeing the car door and how gruesome it might look.

You followed behind Vanderwood as he walked to the nearest complex. He pressed the elevator button, which instantly opened. You both stepped in, still silent, still not looking at each other. You had no idea what he was thinking anymore. On the fourth floor, you followed him a few doors down as he took a key out from inside his coat pocket. He leaned into the peephole as he unlocked the door. He walked in first, and stopped you with a hand from following. Your stomach dropped as he closed the door behind him, leaving you in the cold – with only a shirt on as you were so were unhappily reminded of by the night air. You rubbed your arms and waited, unsure if he was even coming back or if this is where it ended. It didn’t sound likely, but right now you weren’t sure of anything.

The sound of the man gurgling on Vanderwood’s fist made you shiver. You turned to look around the complex, wondering what kind of people lived here. You never really know your neighbors, do you?

The door finally opened and Vanderwood gently took your arm to pull you inside. He closed it back and your eyes widened to see some sort of metal device over the peephole with wires going down and into the door knob. A security system?

“Mmph?” He squeezed you into his chest, embracing you tightly. “I’m sorry, MC. I should’ve told you to lock the god damn door. Don’t you know you’re always supposed to lock a car door?” Tears fell down your face. Holy shit. You thought you were going to _die_. You hugged him back, shoulders heaving as the emotions ran out of you. “It’s alright,” he cooed, in a tone softer than you’d ever heard him use before. “Let’s wash up.” You sniffled as he pulled away and led you to a large bathroom. You rubbed your eyes, confused at how abnormally clean it all looked. Was this apartment new? If anyone told you that it wasn’t lived in, you’d believe them. He brought you to the shower and started unwrapping the bandages on your head. You’d almost forgotten about them.

He threw them in the trash and started the water for you. “Go ahead, clean well, I’ll be back with towels.” And with that, he was gone again, closing the bathroom door behind him. A bottle sat on the wall’s built-in ledge and you picked it up, eyes squinting to read the weird Korean font. How were you supposed to understand this? You squeezed the bottle, surprised it wasn’t plastic but some sort of metal. You turned it around to make sure it was soap and you gasped in disbelief. It was an all-in-one, but it mentioned having a ‘real’ gold concentration, every type of body health-related plant you could think of, and it was from the same line of a high-end fashion brand. They made soap?

Curiosity made you turn it upside down – it was just as you feared, 128,000 KRW at just retail price. You could buy at _least_ 12 of your normal soaps with that amount. And those were just soaps. You sighed, trying to push down the thought of you literally bathing yourself in blood money. You washed yourself, not at all surprised at how smooth and amazing it felt. Part of you was annoyed that despite the price, despite the small size of the bottle, it still didn’t lather well. Of course not. If you could afford this type of soap, you wouldn’t care about something like that. Did Jumin use this brand?

Oh. You hoped you could speak with the RFA at some point this morning so they wouldn’t get worried. Especially Seven. Why didn’t Seven want them to know about you? You hadn’t considered it before, but you were questioning yourself a lot now after having a gun to your head.

You turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. Vanderwood stood right in front of you, towel ready in his arms. “Oh, thank you.” It didn’t even feel weird to be naked in front of him anymore, not after what just happened. You wrapped it around you, drying yourself off.

“Hey,” Vanderwood started. You looked at the floor. “Mm?”

A finger pulled your chin up to make eye contact with him. The blood on his face was gone – he must’ve already started cleaning up elsewhere. “It was stupid of you, no doubt, but thank you for trying to come after me.”

You moved your chin away, unsure what to say. Yeah, it was stupid. But… “Well that’s what friends do.”

“We’re not friends.”

You snapped your head back to him. “What?” You waited for the follow-up, some kind of punch line to the joke. A “we’re best friends” or a “more than friends” would’ve been fine, but you only got silence. Vanderwood pointed to the sink. “More clothes for you, sorry I only have boxers as underwear.” He turned away, walking out of the bathroom, but you grabbed his hand – letting the towel fall.

“Do you hate me?” Your lip quivered. What the hell was the past two days if not for the budding of a friendship? “I’m sorry if I’ve been annoying, but I thought that – I thought we were at least acquaintances?”

“Please don’t cry,” he sighed. You let go of his hand and quickly moved to start wiping away the tears before they fell.

“I’m sorry.”

You watched him walk out of the bathroom, your heart clenching from the rejection. You’d never been so off before about your relationship with someone. He didn’t even want to be friends with you? You clothed yourself in the button-up and pants he left for you. Everything was too big, everything felt wrong. You picked up the towel and cried into it.

_Breathe, MC, breathe._

You folded the towel back and placed it on the sink. You were going to be just fine. You looked into the mirror and raised your shoulders. Everything was going to be fine.

Trying to project confidence, you walked out of the bathroom and looked for Vanderwood. You followed the sound of water to a kitchen – once again – the area was so clean it looked unused. He was shirtless, rinsing his entire head in a peculiarly large sink. It was so big it could’ve been industrial. “Can I use your phone to call Seven? I left the one you gave me in the car.”

“He can’t talk,” he said loudly, not removing his head from the water.

“Why not?”

He didn’t respond and you folded your arms. You stomped over and turned off the water. Vanderwood raised his head to finally look at you. “Why not?” You repeated, glaring.

“I’m tired of no one telling me anything! I can remember things now! You said you’d tell me in the car before…before…” You trailed off, unable to even describe what the events were.

“Seven didn’t tell me everything,” he said, reaching to turn the water back on. You pushed his hand away. “And what did he tell you?”

He sighed. “He’s the one who called to warn me. I just did as he said, I took you out of there and to a safe location.”

“And getting jumped in the woods?”

“That was unexpected, had nothing to do with what Seven was up to.”

“Huh? You going to tell me more than that?”

“No.” He turned the water back on and put his face back in.

“Let me talk to Seven!”

“Didn’t you hear me? He can’t talk right now.”

“You don’t know that!”

He turned the water off and picked up his towel to start rubbing his face and hair.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” You turned away from him, feeling your eyes tear up again. _No, pull yourself together._ This was about finding out what was happening to your friend, not your personal relationship with this gangster who didn’t even like you.

You left the kitchen back to the living room and plopped down on the couch. It hurt your head, but you ignored the pain. Then you got an idea. Why not just go home? You didn’t need to put up with this, you could just leave. That would show him. You got up and walked to the door, but hesitated upon seeing the wired knob.

Wait.

You had no money, no phone, and no ID on you. But more importantly, where was home? The apartment was gone. Could you call your landlord – were they even alive? Wait, you’ve never met the landlord. How could you have not met the landlord of your own apartment? Something fuzzy at the corner of your mind was preventing you from putting together the final puzzle piece.

Something didn’t add up. You couldn’t remember the name of the apartment or even the appearance of your own room, as if you never really lived in there. You unlocked the latch anyway. You didn’t care anymore.  Screw Vanderwood, screw all of this. You’d go to the police or something – surely someone would help you figure out the next step. Maybe you could just call Jumin for help if Seven really couldn’t answer anything.

You turned the knob and the door started opening before it slammed back shut. Vanderwood’s arm reached over top of you, and a second one locked the door back.

“Vanderwood you can’t keep me here,” you growled. You sounded brave, but fear was gnawing on you. A strong man was trapping you in his apartment. Oh God, right out of a drama.

“Technically, I can, but I don’t want to force you here, MC.”

“Then let me leave.”

“Seven said to keep you safe, I can’t do that if you leave my apartment,” Vanderwood sighed.

“Safe from what?”

He didn’t answer. You turned around to face him, folding your arms.

“Are you and Seven in a gang?”

He scratched his head, moving his arms away from you.

“If I say yes, will you stop asking me questions and just hate me already?”

“No,” you said, pushing past him back to the couch.

“Eh?”

“No!”

You laid down and closed your eyes. You didn’t feel tired, despite being woken up so early. You had no idea what time it was, but the sun still wasn’t out yet.

“But you don’t even know me,” Vanderwood groaned.

“You’re Seven’s friend! You saved my life, even if it was your fault in the first place! Your name is Vanderwood! You’re smart and strong! You’re clean and had no dreams growing up!”

You felt the couch move as Vanderwood sat down.

“Most of everything you just said is wrong. So now what?”

“Then tell me about yourself.”

“I will not.”

“Then I’m not telling you about myself, either.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“You’re also a huge jerk!” You took the pillow you were laying on and threw it in his general direction. You heard him chuckle near you and buried your face into the couch, wondering why your neck was getting hot. Vanderwood is a jerk.

“Hey, let me put your new bandages on,” he said. You ignored him.

You felt him tap your shoulder and shrugged him off.

“MC…Just let me put the new ones on. You don’t have to talk to me ever again if you don’t want to. But as long as I’m taking care of you for Seven…please.”

You sighed and sat up.

“Thank you.”

He reached over and began bandaging you. The familiar snugness came back and you closed your eyes, waiting for him to finish.

“There, now you can finish the rest of your sleep. You can take my bed, come follow me.”

“You don’t have to do that for me, I can sleep here. It’s comfortable.” You moved off the couch to pick up the pillow you threw.

“Well, for safety reasons I’d rather you be in my room, actually.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course.”

“Is it bad I’m making sure you’re safe?”

You returned the pillow to the couch and waited, looking at the nearly perfect carpet.

“This way.”

You followed his legs as they led you to his bedroom, past the bathroom. You finally looked up, wondering what kind of creepily clean room he had. Woaw.

There was nearly nothing in there at all, just a bed, drawers, and a…case? An empty suitcase laid open in the corner. Weird. “Goodnight, just wake me up if you need anything.”

You wanted to stop him, to tell him to not leave you in this ghost room, but you said nothing as the door closed behind you. You crawled into the bed and sighed out. You finally felt tired, and this bed was extremely plush. Was it even cotton? You felt like you were laying on clouds and smiled up at the ceiling. You chuckled – ah, _there_ was the personality. Tiny stars were stuck to the ceiling, glistening and glowing green in the dark. Beautiful. You closed your eyes and let the day slip away. So Vanderwood liked stars, huh?

Vanderwood had his back to you, looking up at the twinkling space. You opened your mouth to call out to him, but closed it back with a sigh. What was the point? Where was Seven? You looked around, but he was nowhere to be found. Oh! You saw another person with blue hair in the distance and waved at them. He waved back and you smiled. Who was that? He seemed familiar. But at least he didn’t have his back to you, at least he seemed to care.

Your eyes fluttered open with a frown. _V._ The man was V – you saw his profile picture in the RFA app and spoke with him briefly once. But wait, V was the head of the association. Why would you have only spoken with him once? Once again, something wasn’t fitting in the puzzle. You had almost no recollection of V. But if you’ve been in the RFA for so long… Were you not in the RFA for very long? You thought about the other members. You knew Seven, he was a longtime friend…

Unless he wasn’t? What about Jaehee? She was a longtime friend, too. No… She only joined the RFA a couple years ago, the timeline didn’t make sense. Well, Yoosung, he… No, was just starting college, how did you meet Yoosung years ago? Zen? Jumin?

You gasped.

Holy shit, maybe you _didn’t_ know the RFA at all. But why would Seven be so adamant about protecting you if he didn’t know you? How long have you known these people? For the first time, the belief that Seven and you were close, old friends came into question. It had been the foundation of all the trust you displayed for Seven and Vanderwood, but if it wasn’t true, then…

You needed to leave. It didn’t matter where. But you needed to find your real friends, your real family, your real home until you figured this out. Despite everything, you felt safe with Vanderwood, even if you had no reason to. You needed to do the logical thing and get away from all of this until your memory was back to normal, then maybe you could come back. You slipped out of the plush bed and stretched. Would Vanderwood let you leave? You shook your head, of course he would. You made a choice to stay, and you could make the choice to go. You gently opened the door and peeked your head out. Tiptoeing, you made your way near the living room.

Was he sleeping on the couch? If you slipped past to the door, you could easily leave and not have to deal with any sort of monologue or resistance. You remembered that when you opened the door before it didn’t chime, so it should be easy. But Vanderwood wasn’t sleeping. You saw his shadow and raised an eyebrow. You got closer until you saw his back, hunched over and typing on a laptop. Shit. There was no way to leave without him noticing. Wait. You saw the phone you left in the car sitting on the armrest alongside Vanderwood’s phone. With a grunt, Vanderwood cracked his neck and started closing the laptop. Tiptoeing as fast as you could you ran back to your room and pulled the door nearly closed – enough to peak out. Vanderwood went inside the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

A chance.

You dashed out and grabbed the phone, stuffing it in your pocket, then fumbled with the locks. _Sorry, Vanderwood._ The fresh air was hard to swallow and you squinted from the bright light of a fully lit sun. It must be afternoon for the day to be so hot already. You stepped out and locked the door from the inside before pulling it close behind you. You smiled. This was fine. It was time to start walking – it was time for things to go back to normal.

“Oh, good morning. You must be the wife!” You flinched back in surprise, much to the dismay of the older woman who stood a door down. She had bags of groceries in her hands. Ugh.

“Um, let me help you with those,” you said with a smile. The woman cooed, “Oh, how kind, thank you. I just need to place these on the table. Take this one?” You lifted the heavy bag from her, wondering how in the world she was managing to carry two. She used her newly freed hand to unlock the door and you followed her inside. It was quaint and frilly, fitting.

“I never see that man, it’s like he’s never home,” she complained. “Not that friendly either, but I see he must be well if has such a pretty, young wife,” she said with a laugh. You couldn’t handle the association. “Ah, thank you. Um, I’m going to go grocery shopping myself now.” She nodded and showed you out. “I’ll see you, then!”

As the door closed your heartbeat sped up, it was only a moment but would Vanderwood have noticed you were gone? You bolted down the stairs and made your way down the sidewalk, out of the rich neighborhood. Ah, the phone. With it, now you could call someone. You thought about Seven, but it was probably better to call home for someone to pick you up. You still had no money, and you were getting cold feet about going to the police. You didn’t want to get Vanderwood in trouble or anything. It would be awkward to go to the prosecution office and explain your relationship or whatever it is you had with the man. You gulped. In the woods the other night, he didn’t kill anyone, right? No, of course not, you witnessed how he spared the man who knew his name.

You pulled the phone out of your pocket as you finally walked past the gate entrance. You froze. _Shit._ This wasn’t the temporary phone, this was _Vanderwood’s_. You clicked it to see the default lock screen – did he have personality anywhere? It requested a pin and you groaned. All that was left was the emergency call, but you weren’t desperate enough to use it yet. As soon as you dropped it back in your pocket, it vibrated. Was it Vanderwood calling his phone? Reluctantly, you pulled it back out. The number was blocked. Spam?

Against your better judgment, you answered.

The voice was serious and got straight to the point, “Vanderwood. Requesting an update. I sent you the latest files, did you decrypt them yet?”

“Seven?”

The voice got quiet. “M-MC?” The panic came quickly after. “Did something happen to Vanderwood? Where are you two?”

How were you supposed to explain this to him? No, you wanted answers first. “What’s going on, Seven? Why did we have to leave your house?”

He sighed. “Well you’re not compromised, otherwise you wouldn’t be asking that. That’s good…”

You walked aimlessly down the street, heading towards the tall city towers and the rest of civilization.

“I promise I’ll tell you everything soon, I just don’t have the time right now. We’re close friends, remember MC? Just trust me and I—“

“But I don’t know if we’re close friends. Nothing makes sense, Seven. Are we?” If he was lying, he could easily continue. You didn’t know why you asked, but you wanted information. You hoped he would fill in the gaps. Despite everything not adding up, you still wanted to trust him. You still wanted to believe that it wasn’t all a lie your brain made up to calm you down.

“MC…No, we…we met for the first time at the apartment.” You sucked in air. No. No, that couldn’t be true. He continued, “I’m sorry for lying, it’s what you believed in a vulnerable time and I went along with it so I wouldn’t upset you. I really am trying to protect you, that’s the truth.”

“Why?” You croaked out, praying not to cry again. You were so tired of crying. You were tired of all of these secret games.

“Because you got involved in something dangerous when you were only trying to help. And I know you’re a good person, so I don’t want to abandon you.”

“What something is it? No one will tell me anything and,” you took a deep breath, “And I’m not going to keep going along with this until I know what’s going on.” It was meant to be a threat, but it ended up sounding more like a plea.

Seven sighed on the other end. “I…Agh. A hacker is threatening the RFA, MC, I have reason to believe they were behind the explosion. I thought it was connected to my current job’s…problem, but it looks like I have two threats on my hand right now.”

“Is your job being in a gang?”

“Ah…? No… Well, I guess to an outsider it may as well be…But I’m a hacker, MC.”

That made sense. “And Vanderwood?”

“He’s a colleague of mine, we’re on the same case right now.”

“I see,” the news wasn’t good, but getting news at all was a nice change of pace. “Wait, um, now that I know you’re a hacker spy or something, does that mean you’ll have to kill me?”

Seven laughed. “I would like to avoid that, if possible. Vanderwood and I don’t want to hurt you, the opposite really. It’s just we can’t have friends, so we’re doing a lot of things off the book right now.”

Friends…

“Are we friends?”

Seven hesitated, and you wondered why you asked such a stupid question. “On the record? No. Off the record? Yes. I hope this is enough information for now. Will you comply with us for now, MC? Please?”

“What does the RFA know?”

“They know I’m a hacker, but they don’t know how threatening it is.”

“And the explosion?”

“They don’t know anything about that, I’d prefer them not to for now or it’ll cause an uproar. Jumin would probably alert the authorities, which would make my job harder. I’d probably have to leave the RFA if they got involved.”

It sounded serious. You frowned. “Once this is all over, you should tell them everything. You and Vanderwood should be…free.” The word escaped your lips, triggering a memory of you using it before when speaking with Vanderwood.

“It’s not really a business you just leave, I’m afraid. For me, I have other reasons to stay in the shadows.”

“I guess I don’t know enough to say anything but, maybe you don’t always need permission. You just take freedom for yourself, you know?”

He got quiet on the the line. Did you go too far? “Ah, sorry – “

The phone was snatched away and you jumped. You turned to see Vanderwood looming over you, his expression full of anger. How did he find you?

“Found her, I’ll call you back later,” Vanderwood spoke into the phone, before ending the call and stuffing the phone in the same pocket as always.

“Wrong. Phone,” he growled.

“Yeah, I noticed,” you sighed, meeting his eyes, trying to be as indignant as possible.

The walk back was silent, but you welcomed it. You prepared yourself for the verbal beating you would surely get as soon as you two were in the confines of the apartment. Vanderwood leaned into the peephole again and unlocked the door.

“Hey,” you started, looking back at the older woman’s door and not coming inside, “You should greet your neighbors every now and again.”

“Eh? Why would that matter?”

You stepped in and leaned against the wall. “It doesn’t help your disguise or whatever if you’re too aloof with your neighbors. You probably should have more decorations in your house too so people might think you’re normal. And whatever,” you motioned your hand towards the door, rolling your wrist, “this is, is a dead giveaway. What is it?”

Vanderwood crossed his arms, looking back towards the mechanism. “It’s my basic security system. Besides all the cameras throughout the place,” shock crossed your face, “the door itself is hooked up to need both a fingerprint reading and eye scan before the key will open the door. If someone tries to force it open, it will shock their hand – but not enough to really hurt them incase it’s just a thief.”

Woaw.

“How considerate,” you commented sarcastically. “I try to be,” he scoffed. “And I like my apartment, thank you very much,” he added. You smiled and thought about what Seven told you about not having friends. Maybe Vanderwood didn’t hate you after all. But, you thought with a frown, maybe this was just how it had to be with him because of his job.

You decided you hated his job.

“Vanderwood,” you proclaimed.

His head snapped to you in surprise. “Eh? What? What’s wrong now?”

You took a deep breath and went for it. You walked forward close to him and he leaned back in surprise. But you didn’t care. You reached up and pecked him on the corner of his lips, then proudly walked past him back to the couch.

“Sorry about the phone,” you said with an exaggerated sigh. You picked up the correct one from the couch and looked over at him with a smirk. Vanderwood stood in the same spot, a slight red glow on his cheeks. The smirk grew wider.

“I told you, we’re not friends,” he coughed, returning to his spot on the couch in front of the laptop. You shrugged and plopped down beside him on the couch. “You don’t have to be my friend, but I’ll still be yours. It’s fine.” Vanderwood reached for the laptop and opened it up, but didn’t turn it on. “That doesn’t make any sense. Friendship is mutual.” You leaned your head against him and yawned. “Oh well.”

“You’re so annoying,” he said, moving his head to look down at you. “What did Seven tell you on the phone?” He could tell something was different.

“That you’re a good friend.” Not exactly, but you still got the information indirectly. Vanderwood was only his colleague, but he was willing to go out of his way and defy his dangerous job’s wishes, just to help Seven with his work and his personal issues. You sitting beside him was proof enough of Vanderwood’s big heart, of his ability to put friendship over money – or even the possibility of death.

“Seven’s an idiot,” he tutted.

“Then what are you if you’re helping him?”

Vanderwood didn’t like that. His eyes narrowed down at you. You only continued smiling in response.

“Yeah, I guess I’m an idiot too then,” he grumbled. You giggled. “That’s fine, I still like you.”

His glare softened and Vanderwood continued staring at you. Your smile faded, wondering what was going on in the strange man’s head. Was he sad about it all?

He shifted his shoulder, and you lifted your head. Was he getting up? But instead, his finger slipped under your chin and raised it. Vanderwood leaned in to kiss you gently, the messy strands tickling your nose and cheeks. Your heartbeat sped up, you held your breath. It was as sweet tasting as you remembered, but you didn’t have time to savor it. Just as soon as it started, it ended. It was as if you were drinking a glass of water, and right before the last satisfying drop, it was pulled away from you. Vanderwood turned back to his laptop and clicked it awake, as if he had never given you the glass in the first place. You stared at the side of his face, his eyes focused on the laptop, not daring to glance over at you.

You plead with your eyes, knowing he couldn’t see them. _Please. Please kiss me again._

“Vanderwood?”

His jaw tightened. You continued anyway.

“I’m glad you like me, too.”

“I didn’t say that,” he snapped.

“You don’t like me, then?”

He clammed up, then huffed. “I didn’t say that, either.”

You poked a finger on the laptop’s back and closed it down. Vanderwood buried his head in his hands in response, mumbling loudly, “I need to work, MC.”

You moved a couple fingers through his long hair, smiling and thinking of the fancy all-in-one cleanser he surely used in his luscious locks. He lifted his head slightly to look at you as you continued massaging. “That feels good.” His face was red again, you found it endearing. It gave you confidence. “Kiss me and I’ll let you work.”

His head lifted all the way, the red not going away. If anything, it was worse than before. Vanderwood’s hand reached around your neck and pulled you gently forward into him. You breathed out as his soft lips found yours once more, the sweet taste and electrifying tingling coursing its way down your throat. But he didn’t pull away after a brief moment, his lips parted and he hungered for more. Your hands found themselves on his shoulders, encouraging him. With one hand on your neck, Vanderwood placed the other on your hip, bringing your entire body closer in one, easy motion. He shifted himself even closer into you. It was the closest you two had ever been. The heat alone was enough to make you sweat, but the way Vanderwood leaned over you, seemed to be covering and dominating all of you, made you gasp for air.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled in-between another kiss. You smiled. He was so considerate. Your hands on his shoulders moved until your arms were wrapped around his neck. Vanderwood understood what you wanted just fine – he removed his hand from your neck and moved his body weight over you until you were flat on the couch and he was straddling you. The kiss got deeper, you wondered if it would turn into something like before when…

He pulled his lips back. “I’m sorry about before. I know I must’ve given you the wrong idea about me. I’m not some horndog, I wasn’t…I wasn’t trying to use you or anything. I hadn’t done anything like that in a long time, you were cute, I felt like I could…” He trailed off, his eyes shyly moving away from yours.

“Vandy…”

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve called me that. Where did it come from?”

“Do you hate it?”

His faint smile answered your question. “Vanderwood, let me help you this time.” There was no denying you this time, not with how vulnerable he was making himself, not with how honest he was being.

He stripped himself turned away from you, and you took the time to inspect his bare back. The scars, new and old, had completely different meaning now. It didn’t make him dangerous in your eyes, but a survivor. Vanderwood had survived countless things, he was strong and capable. You thought about what he said about not being able to have dreams when he was younger. Could he be in this business because he didn’t have a choice? It was a sad concept to wrap your head around, how could a child not be able to dream?

But he wasn’t a child anymore. Vanderwood turned to finally face you and sat back on the couch. You leaned in to kiss him and he cupped your face, eagerly accepting the affection. Your hands fondled his chest, running gently down to feel every notch – the slight bumps of the scars, the toned caves of his abs, the smooth surface of his skin. It ran down until they touched the hair of his crotch – smooth and well-groomed just like the rest of him. Your hand traveled, feeling the smooth curve of his dick. You wondered how long it was, but didn’t want to break your kiss just to see. Your hand gripped it as it traveled to the tip. You wondered what Vanderwood might sound like if he moaned – you wanted to find out. Your thumb gently rubbed on its tip, quickly becoming sticky. Good.

His breath labored, exciting you. You moved your hand to stroke him, making sure to rub your thumb on the tip each movement. Would he moan for you, could you make him feel like you did? Vanderwood’s hands moved from cupping your face to wrapping around your waist. He held you tightly, pushing his body into your hand. You stroked faster, wanting to hear more of him struggling to breathe, more of him enjoying you. A grunt escaped his lips, a low rumble that came from the throat. It was almost primal, but could he do more for you?

“Hold my hair,” you gasped out, finally separating your face from his. His eyes opened slowly. “Mm?” He understood what you meant as you moved out of his grasp and kneeled on the floor. At eye-level, you were impressed by how massive he was. Everything about Vanderwood was big with his clothes off, you wondered how he kept it hidden at all in his fancy, stylish clothes. “MC? You don’t have to…” Your tongue brushed the tip and his hand clenched. “But you want me to.” He twitched as you brushed it again. Slowly, the cavities of your mouth swallowed him. Your tongue lapped at the bottom of his girth as you began to move it in and out. He grunted again, louder. But it wasn’t enough for you. You placed your hands on his knees and closed your mouth tighter around him. “Ah,” he finally said. There it was, the quiet moan of ecstasy you were waiting for.

His hand gently caressed the top of your head then held your hair like you requested. He was firm, but gentle with you. Just like he’d been since you met him. You went faster, pushing your head further into him. His leg slid away, then came back. “Fuck,” he groaned out. “Agh,” he said even louder. A second hand helped grab your hair. You remembered your time with him and smiled, looking up into his eyes. They were closed so you stopped.

“Look at me.”

His eyes shot open and he looked down. A grin tugged at his face. “Fine.”

You weren’t expecting him to do it so eagerly, and you felt shy at his intensity. You continued, staring up even though you wanted to look away yourself. But as long as you were projecting confidence, you wanted to go all the way. Vanderwood’s shoulders heaved and you could see his lips tremble, just slightly, as your mouth pleasured him. “Hngh,” he moaned, throwing his head back just briefly before returning back to the intense stare shared between you. He moaned again, mouth agape. His hips moved just slightly, nearly making you gag.

“Ah, sorry, sorry,” he grunted breathless, leg shaking. You pulled out to lick down him, teasing. He growled louder, “MC, come on… Please…”

“Say my name then.”

A chuckle erupted from deep in his chest. “Make me,” he challenged. You mouth found its way back, tight and going up and down his length quickly. It didn’t take long for the smile to go away. Vanderwood grunted loudly, moving his hand through your hair in an effort to not pull it instead.

“MC…God, MC…please, please.”

“Pweasewhatt?” You said through a full mouth.

Both his legs pressed themselves into you.

“MC please make me cum. MC, MC, MC!”

You continued on. This was what you wanted, him to feel helpless in your grasp, just like how you did. For him to feel like he needed it, too. He suddenly pushed your head away with his hands.

“Fuck,” he practically yelled. He held his girth himself as he came, the white liquid oozing down his hand. He leaned back into the couch, eyes closing.

“Well, you made me,” he said with a short laugh at the end. You stood up and leaned over him, kissing his forehead. His free hand pulled you back in. The kiss was sweaty, but happy and sweet. It felt different than the ones before. “I’m going to clean up, then I really have to work,” Vanderwood grunted, finally sitting up.

“Alright.”

You watched him walk away, a small laugh trickling out. As he stepped inside the bathroom you stretched and sat on the couch, a bit proud of your accomplishment. A tinge of heat started burning on your cheeks as the adrenaline died down.

_You’re dangerous, we can’t do that again._

The words returned to your ears. He didn’t want to be friends, but you felt like you two already were. He said he wasn’t trying to use you, but now you weren’t sure what he meant. If he didn’t want to be friends, what would be the problem with using you? You thought about the kiss he gave you, what was so different about it? It wasn’t sexual, it wasn’t friendly, it was…something more. You touched your hot cheeks. _Shit._ Did _you_ want something more? No, of course not. You just met the man, you wanted to be friends before anything else. Of course, there was no denying the intense sexual energy between you two, but you weren’t… You weren’t falling for Vanderwood, right?

You shook your head. It didn’t matter, you would be out of his hands soon enough anyway. There was no point mulling over some new infatuation when you knew Vanderwood would never return the same feelings. He lived in a world different from yours, something alien and dangerous. He had no room for friendships, let alone a girlfriend. You laughed. Of course not. There was no way you could possibly fall in-love with cold shoulder, secretive, gun-shooting, sarcastic, muscular, gorgeous…er, mean ‘Mary’ Vanderwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! You made it! Although I wanted each chapter to be its own day for #aesthetic, I'll break it up in the future if I have to. I hope you're having fun, look forward to Vanderwood opening up to MC, an alternative conclusion to the strange happenings of the RFA, and Mint Eye repercussions.


	4. Day 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderwood has always had Seven's back, keeping his distance or getting closer as requested. He has never pried into his personal life and Seven has never pried into his. But now that there's a third person between them, Vanderwood is forced to slowly confront his own view on relationships.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a bit longer than the rest, I'm working on several things, but I'll continue to try and update weekly!

As the day mulled on from morning to afternoon, you got more nervous. You had no contact with the RFA and Vanderwood’s fancy-looking television didn’t function at all. Why did he even have it? There were surely less expensive ways to give the appearance of a ‘normal’ living room. Was it because of the neighborhood he was in?

“Stop pacing,” Vanderwood grumbled out from behind his laptop.

“Why even have this television? You clearly don’t take visitors, so why keep up the appearance of… _this_?”

“It’s for me, not anyone else.”

“Huh?”

He sighed, standing up from the couch seat. Vanderwood strolled over and rubbed his hand along the side of the large flat screen. It clicked and a flash emitted from its center, as if it had just taken a picture. Vanderwood then pulled on the screen, causing it to open as if it were just a door. The television wasn’t a television at all, but some sort of keypad. On its back were digital buttons of various numbers and characters. You looked up towards the ceiling, wondering where the light was transmitting from.

“The landlord at this complex doesn’t do room checks, that’s the main reason I stay here. But I can never be too careful. Landlord or not, I don’t want to keep too many valuables or sensitive information that can connect me to my job.” You stared at Vanderwood as he calmly explained what felt like a movie plot. “I wanted to put my…I wanted to keep a safe inside the wall, but it was too obvious. Instead, I have a sort of digital safe for information. I put in the right code for what I need and…” He typed in what seemed like a 20-character string and all the numbers lit up green. Then, his laptop beeped.

“It sends it to me. It’s just a simple 2-factor authorization. If someone breaks open the television or tries to look behind it…” He pulled out his phone and pressed a couple buttons. The light emitting the keypad disappeared. “I can make it not exist.”

“Why not just have a flashdrive?”

He laughed. It was supposed to be a serious question, but you couldn’t help but smile along with him.

“I use those too. But this is _much_ cooler and holds a lot more.”

“Fancy Vanderwood would have such a fancy flashdrive,” you teased.

“It’s just who I am,” he teased back. You liked this side of him, you decided. He stretched and began walking back to the laptop when his phone rang. Vanderwood’s demeanor changed instantly, the man who seemed to be having fun hardened back into a serious spy. He checked the number, then answered.

“Hello. Yes. Yes. No. When? Alright. Yes. No, that’s not possible, not in the current timeframe. Yes, understood. I’ll let you know. Alright. Thanks.”

The phone went away, but the demeanor remained the same. “Was that Seven?”

Vanderwood shook his head and slowly sat back down on the couch. “Work?”

He nodded and laid out entirely, his frame covering the entirety of the couch. You sat on the floor beside him, hugging your knees. Work was a touchy subject. You understood the gist – that it was dangerous work in the shadows – but what he did, what ‘work’ entailed, was unclear.

“I need a vacation,” he suddenly sighed.

“Could you request time off?”

He laughed at that, your cheeks flushed. A hand lazily reached out to touch the laptop but missed and landed on your head. He glanced over. “Ah, sorry. Well for now I’m on standby, according to the boss. I can’t do anything until Seven returns to his hacking. But, as you know, he’s slacking around doing whatever the hell with the charity organization and the boss is getting irritated. We have a few days so I’m not worried but…”

“But?”

“But I’ve never seen 707 so…flaky. Yeah, he’s super annoying and can get distracted but he still gets his work done. It’s almost like this RFA thing has consumed him completely. But what’s _really_ annoying-,” he was started to get animated, lifting his arms in indignation as he spoke. You bit your lip, trying not to laugh or grin as wide as you were beginning to. “-is he’s being so indirect about it! He has his secrets, even I don’t know about them, but what the hell kind of a secret could a god damn _charity organization_ have? It’s a charity! He’s talked about the members before, he’s even named them, but now it’s like RFA itself is some sort of dirty, underground business of its own! I mean, seriously, maybe I’m in the wrong. Someone bombed an apartment in possible relation? Who the hell has the resources and time for that? Some sort of resourceful gang with a misplaced vendetta against the _charity_? That would be unrealistic. Jeez.”

He huffed out, done ranting.

“You care about him.”

“Or I’m just an idiot,” he tutted. “I can’t cover for him forever. I don’t want to have to…make him or anything.”

“Make him?” His muscles came to mind.

He got quiet, removing his hand from your head and back to his chest.  “You haven’t talked about what happened yesterday." It seemed so far away, had it really been less than 48 hours?

Vividly you remembered the gun to your head, the man gurgling, the blood on Vanderwood’s face.

“Well, you can’t really tell me about work, so there isn’t much to talk about, right?”

Vanderwood’s hand found its way back to you, lifting your chin just slightly so he could get a better look at your face.

“You’re a normal woman, you don’t get a gun pulled on you and walk away like it’s normal. Not to mention surviving a possibly targeted apartment explosion with amnesia. ” He sat up on the couch, his two stars burning into you and finger still under your chin. “You could’ve died, you know. Are you still in shock?”

You hadn’t considered that. Your days had been running together, only after your call with Seven did you even feel your memories were correctly placed. That wasn’t to say they were all back, considering you still weren’t sure who Unknown was or how you got involved in the RFA in the first place. But with the rate of your recovery, you were certain you’d understand everything soon.

“I don’t really know,” you admitted. He finally removed the finger and looked away, clasping his hands and thinking to himself.

“Vandy…?”

He murmured out a “hmm,” still lost in thought.

“I…don’t have my clothes, money, or ID. And my phone with the RFA app on it is at Seven’s house.” You wanted to ask something specific, but you weren’t even sure what it was. You wanted all of these problems to be solved, but you had no way of doing it without Vanderwood. Although you didn’t want to admit it, you were trapped here in more ways than one.

“Yeah…alright. Well, I can fix some of those,” he said matter-of-factly. Your eyes lit up. “We – well you – can’t go back to Seven’s place right now, so the phone and ID will have to wait for at least another day. But, there’s an outlet nearby. How do you feel about shopping?”

If there was one thing you could be jealous of with Vanderwood, it was his fashion sense. Although you had found his black suit and leopard print peculiar, it accented him beautifully and was probably custom made. You questioned the functionality of it since you figured he was supposed to be blending in, but now you were questioning if anything could make the handsome man properly intermingle in a crowd. He changed to what he called his “after work, but not really because I’m always on stand-by” clothes. It consisted of a black button-up with a zebra trim on the collar, white pants with a plain black belt, black and suede ankle boots, and a free-flowing white shawl in which you saw him (somehow, miraculously) hide a gun. He finished the look with a pair of sunglasses that appeared to be tinted purple with a gold frame and pulled on his usual gloves. It took him only minutes to seemingly throw it together, and the more you looked at him the more self-conscious you felt about your own outfit – clothes far too big for you that you were only borrowing.

Vanderwood closed the apartment door behind him and began making his way to the elevator, you trailing close behind. It opened up and you were met with an excited gasp. It was the old woman again, this time with an old man. You assumed it must be her husband. She looked between you and Vanderwood and tugged on the man’s arm. “Dear! This is the young lady I was telling you about, the Mrs. Vanderwood,” she said with a laugh.

You didn’t have to turn your head to feel Vanderwood’s hot gaze on you. The couple stepped off the elevator to clear the way.

“You’ve…met?” He said, slowly. It sounded accusatory.

“Yes, just yesterday when she went grocery shopping.”

“Ah, grocery shopping,” he murmured. You felt your neck prickling. The idea of hiding under a box came to mind. He stepped into the now-empty elevator and you followed.

“Yes, she helped me get my groceries inside the apartment. My name is Mrs. Ryong, by the way. I hope we will see you two later, maybe we can do dinner soon!”

“Yes, that sounds nice, very nice to meet you both formally,” echoed the man.

You finally shifted your eyes to see a smiling Vanderwood waving at the couple.

“That sounds lovely, have a nice night,” he answered.

The doors finally closed and you began stammering, “Um, so, yeah, I didn’t uh, this is awkward –”

He placed a firm hand on your shoulder and you clammed up.

“What were you thinking?” His tone was serious again.

“I didn’t say we were _married_ , she just assumed –“

He cut you off with a sigh. “No, I don’t care about that. The fact you went inside her _apartment_. You don’t do that, understand? That could’ve been a trap for all you know!”

“Your neighbor?”

“I get that you’re a nice person, but you can’t afford to be nice anymore. I’m sorry if Seven and I have ruined that for you. But until we get it sorted out, you’re going to have to learn to be more careful. Things are different now. Understand?”

You rubbed your arm to distract yourself from your own embarrassment. “Oh…yeah, I understand. I’m sorry.”

Vanderwood stepped forward and embraced you for a brief moment before the elevator doors re-opened. Unintentionally you breathed in the increasingly comforting citrusy and earthly scent.  “It’s alright. I’m going to protect you, I promise.” He sounded sincere, you wanted to believe him. He squeezed your arm reassuringly and began making his way to the garage, slowing down to be by your side. “So,” he yawned out, “Mrs. Vanderwood huh?”

Dammit, for a moment you really thought he was going to let this one go.

“You know this is not going to help with my low profile, right? The Ryongs are going to keep bugging me about you, but not before they tell everyone on our floor that they met Mrs. Vanderwood. Once you leave, it’s going to be annoying for me.”

_Once you leave._

You pushed the sudden doubt away – of course you had to leave, you had a life to return to. There was no reason to feel sad about your situation. “Um, so you’ve spoken with them before, then?”

Vanderwood shrugged. “Not really, but I try to keep up with the people on my floor…for safety reasons. If things suddenly change or people get suspicious about me, I leave.”

“That sounds really lonely.” Stepping inside the garage, you both made your way to the back. There was Seven’s car, beautiful and shining. The dry air seemed to stick in your throat as you thought about the stains of a bludgeoned man.

“You get used to it,” Vanderwood murmured. He opened the car door for you and you hesitated – but there was no blood anywhere, nor dents. In fact, it was shining brighter than you remembered. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing,” you laughed, sliding in. “Thank you.”

He closed the door and went to the driver’s side, adjusting the car mirrors. You briefly gazed at the glove box and eyes wandered around the inside of the car. You felt uncomfortable being back in. A warm hand squeezed your hand and you turned to see a smiling Vanderwood. “Don’t worry, MC. I said I’d protect you, right?” You nodded.

“Then let me treat you, Mrs. Vanderwood.”

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

Expensive – expensive – expensive – how is that even a sale? You wanted to make a run for it, feeling entirely out of place. You thought you were going to an outlet – like, a _normal people_ outlet. But as Vanderwood walked you down the blocks of stores, explaining the different styles and primary patterns they offered in unnervingly specific detail, you wondered if it’d seem ungrateful if you asked to go to a different location. But, then again, you would choose a location where the items that were half off didn’t cost you a month’s salary.

“You still haven’t picked a store to go in, MC?” Vanderwood suddenly asked you, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Maybe I should’ve asked you beforehand, maybe none of this looks appealing. This is where I tend to shop, so I guess it was a little selfish of me.”

“N-no! It’s lovely here, I just, um,” you pondered on how to put it nicely.

“You’re uncomfortable?” He stated more than asked.

“Well yes, but…”

He waited patiently for your reply. You finally sighed.

“The prices here are outrageous, I’ve never seen half the things here in my life. I don’t want you to spend this much money on me, it feels wrong.”

Vanderwood said nothing so you looked towards his face. You blinked, surprised to see a small smile. “I see. Mrs. Vanderwood, as your capable husband, please do not worry about the money. If that’s the case, is it alright if I help you pick out clothes? You can follow my lead.”

“You really like shopping, huh?”

“It’s one of the few pleasures I afford myself,” he affirmed, gently flicking your head.

“If it makes you happy, then of course.”

He didn’t waste any time before shooing you off down a different block. The amount of people thinned as you stumbled into a medium-sized store without any sort of banner on the outside. The inside was strangely decorated with elaborate carpets and most of the clothes were black, animal print, or striped. _Of course he liked this store._

Something else was weird though, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. “Oh, new season threads,” Vanderwood hummed, now gently pushing you towards a rack that didn’t look very different from the rest. He thumbed through it, glancing back at you as he searched. “Ah, this one’s your size,” he said, pulling out a pleather black dress. It had incredibly long sleeves and a yellow faux fur trim around the neckline that reminded you of a lion.

“Looks a little big for me,” you answered, measuring the giant sleeve against your arm.

“Nah, trust me. I’ve studied your body enough to know your size,” he smirked, pushing the dress into your hands.

You felt your neck prickle and accepted the dress. “S-sh!”

“Alright, hm, I guess you could try it on to see if you like it though. Follow me.”

He walked to the back of the store and past a curtain titled ‘Employees Only,’ to which you stopped in your tracks. “Vandy…Vanderwood, we can’t go in there!”

He responded with a single hand motioning you to follow. You looked around and finally realized why the store felt off – there was no one in it including any employees. You timidly followed him past the curtain to find the backroom was even more confusing. An unconscious woman with what was clearly a half-empty bottle of soju sat snoring in a chair. A restroom and a dressing room were only barely visible behind the messy boxes and racks of unorganized clothes – entirely different from the clean front.

“Hey Mun-Hee,” he called out, pulling you past her and to the dressing room. “Try that on then let me see how you look,” he instructed. Vanderwood walked back out to search for more clothes, but you hesitated to close the door and undress as you glanced one more time at the woman called Mun-Hee. The dress fit you surprisingly well, but you felt a little ridiculous with the length of the sleeves. If it was white, you felt like you could cosplay as some sort of pretty ghost. You cursed yourself for checking the price tag.

“You’re not done yet?” Vanderwood said, knocking.

“I just put it on!”

“Learn to dress quicker,” he whined. “Let me see.”

You felt embarrassed, Vanderwood felt like such a mother right now. But, you opened the door and stepped out anyway.

“Ta da,” you said, half-heartedly. Vanderwood said nothing as he spun you around and inspected the dress.

“Do you even like dresses?”

Huh?

“Would you prefer something with pants?”

You weren’t sure how he came to that conclusion. Was it your obvious discomfort?

“Vanderwood,” a voice moaned out. Although Vanderwood didn’t move, you looked around him to see Mun-Hee sitting up in her chair.

“Morning, Mun-Hee. We’ll be checking out soon.”

“We are?” You asked. Vanderwood didn’t have any clothes to try on in his arms.

“Yup, some are already on the counter. Now that I’ve seen you, I know what to get. So let’s go ahead and go.”

Mun-Hee slumped over in her chair and poured herself another shot of shoju.

“Is she OK?” You whispered.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling you back to the storefront. He didn’t even look back at her, so you weren’t sure why he was so dismissive.

A basket that wasn’t in the store before sat half-full of clothes by the counter. When did he get that? He pulled a few more clothes off racks and threw them in the basket before hopping over to the register.

“Are you…checking yourself out?”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling out his wallet.

“What kind of store is this? Why is Mun-Hee drinking in the back?”

“Family business, she kind of does what she wants. It’s fine, I usually check myself out anyway.”

You didn’t bother pressing him on it, despite how odd it was. Glass breaking behind the curtain made you flinch, but Vanderwood continued scanning each of the items. You walked back to the curtain and poked your head through to see Mun-Hee sloppily sweeping up her broken shot glass.

“Um, Mun-Hee? Are you OK?”

She nodded in response, but you hesitated leaving her. “Do you want me to get you some water or something?”

Mun-Hee looked up at you and stopped sweeping. “You fuckin’ Vanderwood?” She slurred out her words in a way that was almost comical.

You closed the curtains quickly and backed away. What the hell? You weren’t even sure how to answer that question, what was she implying?

“MC, let’s go,” Vanderwood called, pushing the cart of clothes out of the store. You jogged to catch up to him.

“Why’s your face like that?” He chuckled. “Did you try talking to Mun-Hee? You probably shouldn’t do that.”

After barely stuffing the clothes in the trunk of the car, Vanderwood asked you if you wanted ice cream, to which you agreed. Did Vanderwood like sweets? You tried to keep your smile down as you buckled yourself in the car, the blood stains quickly becoming a faded memory. “What do I tell my friends if they ask where I got all these expensive clothes from?” You asked. It was a more light-hearted question than the one you really wanted to ask – why did he get you so _many_ clothes, as if you were going to stay with him longer than a week? Your gut gave you a bad feeling about it. Surely Vanderwood would tell you if he knew more, right? Even if he couldn’t be specific?

The ice cream parlor he went to was a drive-thru, surprising you. “Do you like fruity flavors?” He asked you as you both neared the window. “Er, yeah, sure,” you said.

“Two of the blues,” Vanderwood asked. A man swiped his card and handed him two blue popsicles.

“Blue is a flavor?”

“Just try it, it’s really good, been around for a while.”

He handed you yours without looking, poking you in the nose.

“Oh, sorry,” he said. You responded the only way you could – poking his nose back. He wiped the blue off his face and cursed you. “You’re lucky I’m driving.”

You giggled and ate the treat. It _was_ good and you couldn’t place the flavor – it was a mix of vanilla and some sort of berry mix. The rest of the drive back settled into a comfortable silence. Even bringing all the clothes inside was a combined, but quiet, effort. Vanderwood sat on the floor and folded them all to be uniform, before placing them in his closet. He was definitely a very clean person, you decided. Maybe shopping and cleaning really were his pastimes. “Do you go out a lot?” You asked, sitting on the bed and watching him, mesmerized by how precise his fingers seemed to move along the creases.

“No, I try to stay in and rest when I can.”

“How’d you know about the ice cream place?”

“Seven took me once.” You smiled at that. You wondered what else they’d done together. The good things, anyway.

“You know,” he started, folding the last blazer. “It’s not good to ask me so many questions about myself.”

But you _wanted_ to know, a knot in your chest even told you how much you didn’t care about what it meant.

“Why? Will it blow your cover if I’m interrogated and tell them your favorite ice cream?” You mused.

Vanderwood’s frigid expression dulled any impact you hoped your joke would have. “It’s more like if you’re ever interrogated and it seems like you mean something to me, someone out to hurt me will torture you and use you best they can.”

You held your tongue again – wanting to know if maybe you did mean something to him. He didn’t keep friends or acquaintances it seemed outside of Seven, but Vanderwood was treating you kindly. So were you different? Or was he just being extra courteous because of his colleague?

“So if the Ryongs talk about a Mrs. Vanderwood, they could come looking for me? So it won’t matter if I mean something to you or not.”

Vanderwood stood up from his spot and closed his closet door back. “Yeah, you catch on quick.”

“But you’ll protect me, so I’m fine,” you added.

He turned to flash a small smile. “Yeah, just don’t make it hard.”

You smiled back. “So, learn anything more about what’s going on with Seven?”

He scratched and shook his head. “Honestly, he told me not to worry about it, which was just his nice way of telling me to stay out of it.”

“But isn’t that suspicious?”

He sat beside you on the bed, pulling out his phone. “Heh, aren’t you supposed to be on his side, not mine? Not too long ago you thought he was one of your best friends.”

It was a friendly enough question, but you hesitated. As things were now, you knew Vanderwood better than Seven. It was a strange concept – Vanderwood was keeping you as a favor to Seven, but you were just a casualty in some situation you didn’t understand. If you have to choose, you felt more comfortable with Vanderwood right now. _Vanderwood was more of a friend than Seven._  

“Hm? Did you say something?” Vanderwood asked, looking up from the screen. “Um, but what if Seven is putting himself in danger?”

He shrugged. “Nah, he wouldn’t do that, he’s careful.”

Then why wouldn’t this gut feeling go away?

“But what if he is?”

“Hmm…” Vanderwood flipped the phone over in his hand for a moment. “Well, it’s none of my business, right?”

It was a question, not a statement, the doubt had slipped out of him. “You shouldn’t let him do whatever he’s doing alone. It almost killed me.”

“It’s not like I can out-hack Seven to see what’s up to,” he sighed. Was Vanderwood actually considering what you were saying? Part of you felt pride from it.

“But he trusts you, right? You should at least try talking to him,” you pushed. Vanderwood rested his head in a hand, eyebrow raised. “You’re really worried for him, despite only knowing him for a day.”

“Well I care a lot for you, and I know he means a lot to you.”

“He’s my coworker, MC, worrying for him is me protecting my own asset. And, caring about me?”

The familiar feeling of heat and embarrassment crawled around your face. “W-well yeah, obviously.” You tried to downplay it, instead. “You’re nice,” you affirmed. “And your feelings for Seven are familial, too.”

He shrugged and clicked back to his phone, appearing to drop the topic. You felt relieved, if only for a moment. “You seem perceptive, sure you’re not a spy?”

“I don’t think a spy would have sex with the enemy,” you laughed. Vanderwood turned to face you, slowly leaning in and seeming to rip away your laughter from the air.

“Maybe not penetrative, that leaves you too vulnerable,” he explained. “Now if you’re good, and I mean really good, you make the enemy want you. You receive instead of give, it’s psychological. Pretending to be in a vulnerable position makes them vulnerable. Of course, it could be a trap, they could be playing the same game.” He reached around your neck, pulling you in. “So it’s all about reading the situation and being able to separate real lust from basic sexual desire.” You weren’t sure if your heartbeat was still or jumping out of your chest as you tried to keep your eyes looking into his and not his lips.

“So what is it now?” You breathed out. “Teasing,” he said, matter-of-factly. He gently let you go and started pulling his lips away from your space before you pushed in.

Vanderwood was surprised, but let the kiss linger. You could taste the slight tinge of vanilla and drank it in. When you both pulled away, you felt drained – sad even. You wanted to kiss Vanderwood every day, all the time. The sensation, the need for it, scared you. “Careful there, MC, you might get tortured if you start liking me.”

“But I do like you,” you corrected. As soon as it left your lips, you weren’t sure how you could possibly take it back.

“Yes, but I meant actually liking me. Alright, I’m going to go check the status, let me know when you get hungry.” And he took off without another word before you could attempt to tell him that maybe you did actually like him. But you took a deep breath, glad you didn’t.

After a few minutes of contemplation, you went to Vanderwood’s living room and demanded to speak to Seven. He gave you back the emergency phone without looking up at you, and you returned back to the bedroom, closing the door before dialing. It only took seconds to find the C & R public phone number, and then about 10 minutes to be pushed to Jaehee.

“MC? How are you, oh we were so worried! Give me a moment, I’ll move somewhere private.”

“It’s good to hear your voice again, Jaehee,” you sighed.

“Luciel said you were fine, but…” She started, “but we were still so worried when you suddenly lost contact. It seemed he blocked you from the messenger for a little bit, too. Where are you?”

You struggled to find an answer that would please both Seven and Jaehee. You went the safe route and turned the question on her. “Um, first, what did Seven tell you?”

“He said he moved you to a safe location while he sorts out the hacker business, but that you were mostly still resting. I looked into nearby hospitals who had recent patients with your first name but I couldn’t find anything. You weren’t officially moved into the apartment so you weren’t on any missing victims list from the explosion, either. Are you being well taken care of?”

You felt Vanderwood’s soft sheets and laid down. “Yes…”

A sigh of relief came from the other line. “I’m so glad to hear that, you know Yoosung was so worried? He thinks Rika’s apartment is cursed, keeps saying it’s suspicious. V hasn’t been around since the explosion, either. It’s all a very strange coincidence.”

Jaehee sounded groggy, you wondered how much sleep she’d been getting the past few days. It seemed Seven hadn’t done a good job at dissuading the RFA’s justified concerns. What was he doing? A feeling of bitterness, the first you’d felt towards him, bubbled up. _It wasn’t a coincidence, Jaehee_ , you wanted to say. But you held your tongue just in case it really would make things worse for Seven.

“Well, I just wanted to call someone and let you all know I’m alright. I’ll hopefully be able to get back into the chat, soon,” you said, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.

“That’s good news, I’ll make sure to let everyone know you really are OK.” The bitter feeling returned. Whether she meant to or not, Jaehee had admitted to you she didn’t completely believe Seven when he said you were alright. You asked one last question before hanging up. “So where has V been? He hasn’t logged in since the explosion?”

“No, nothing. We tried reaching him but he doesn’t pick up our calls. I wanted to at least let him know you were OK,” she said in a whisper. “I have to get back to work, though.”

“Alright, Jaehee, have a nice day,” you chirped. She hung up the phone and you swiped over to your only contact – Seven.

He picked up immediately. “MC? Is everything alright?”

“I just wanted to call you,” you said, a little more stiffly than you meant to.

“Oh, OK, sorry. How are you? Is Vanderwood being nice?”

The lingering vanilla in your mouth and the sound of him moaning your name came to mind, first.

“Uh, yes,” you said. _Very nice._

“How is the RFA doing?” You didn’t tell him you just called Jaehee, but you knew he’d read about it later in the chat logs.

“They’re fine.”

His answers were so flat and devoid of enthusiasm that you almost felt like he was lying. Yes, the RFA was technically alive and well, but Yoosung the Conspiracy Theorist and a disappearing V did not mean they were all actually _fine._

You pushed a bit further. “And Yoosung?”

Seven hesitated.

“Have you talked to Yoosung?”

“No.” It wasn’t a lie, but you didn’t like that he didn’t just answer the question. “Or V, actually.” You hoped he would give you something, a little reassurance that he wasn’t in over his head. But he failed you.

“Everyone is fine, just worried about you.”

 _Everyone, even V_. So he did know about V, but why wasn’t V speaking with the rest of the RFA? Or if Seven was lying, why would he lie about V? Whichever the case, all it confirmed was that, yes, V was somehow involved in Seven’s personal history. You sighed.

“Good to hear, I’ll talk to you later, Seven,” you said, with that same attempt at sounding cheery.

“Ok, bye bye~”

He hung up abruptly and you went to the phone’s browser again, closing the C & R tab. Now, you started searching the one person you weren’t sure about at all – Rika.


	5. Day 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MC has decided the secret of the RFA is too big to leave alone. Today, with Vanderwood gone on a mission, she starts an adventure of her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 in the regular routes are when things start shaking up - it's when a character has been 'chosen' by the player. Now, the real adventure starts for our dear MC.

You stood in front of the open fridge, half-awake and basking in its warm light and cold air. You tried to remember why you were there, but only felt the ache of oversleeping. Your search on Rika only brought doubts – everything online about her was positive just like the RFA described. She was tagged in posts across several social media platforms, but hardly had any of her own. It seemed people thought well of her, but no one was close to her. Of course, except the RFA. Yoosung made it easy to search for her with his incredible adoration (or obsession) with Rika, tagging her and mentioning her in posts on a weekly basis before he disappeared entirely from his online presence. A void was left – quietness, then a flood of apologies, condolences, and regrets. You wondered how much of it was genuine. Her own parents weren’t tagged and didn’t mention the suicide as if they had never even heard of a ‘Rika.’

It was odd. Footsteps near you made you rub the sleep out of your eyes and turn to see the large silhouette making its way through the living room to the door.

“Vandy?”

The silhouette stopped. You nearly gasped when he turned to look at you, the bright stars burning with the same intensity you feared. The same intensity from the night you had a gun to your head.

“Where are you going?” You croaked out. Vanderwood approached you, the stars fading as the glow of the fridge illuminated all of him. He stared down at you, his serious expression a little more approachable in the light.

“Work,” he answered, closing the fridge door and fading back into the darkness. “Don’t work up my electricity bill.”

“Ah, sorry,” you said, stepping back.

“And don’t catch a cold,” he sighed.

“When will you be back?” You gently reached your hand out, fumbling around to grab his arm.

“You assume I’m coming back?” He mused.

Alarm raised in your voice. “Is it really dangerous?”

He chuckled, his arm moving to clasp around your hand.

“It was a joke. You always have to assume it’s dangerous if you want to stay alive. But um, I’m glad you’re awake. I sent a text on that phone, but I’ll just tell you here.” Vanderwood pulled you with him as he walked to flick on the kitchen light. He was dressed as usual in his black and leopard print outfit and seemed much more relaxed than he had a moment ago on his way out the door. “I’m going out for work. I have to talk to some people and probably won’t be back for the rest of the day. You could stay here, but I think it’s better for you to hang out with Jumin Han.” Your eyes lit up. Your friend, Jumin? No… Not your friend, just another RFA member you’d known for a day who you thought you knew for years.

“707 is sending out bodyguards to all the members apparently,” Vanderwood continued. “And while I think you’re fine here since no one knows my address, he really insisted.”

“Did he say why?”

“No.”

You sighed. But then you got a brilliant thought. “Say, would it be alright if I was with any of the other RFA members instead of Jumin?”

Vanderwood let go of your hand and crossed his arms. “You wouldn’t want to stay in a rich boy’s penthouse?”

“Maybe that’s why I don’t want to stay there.”

A gloved finger tapped his chin. “Then who? The woman?”

You smiled. “Yoosung Kim.”

It didn’t take much convincing for Vanderwood to change his arrangements, he professed it didn’t matter who you stayed with as long as they were trustworthy. And according to Vanderwood, who admitted to you he’d done research on all of the RFA long ago after founding out about them from 707, Yoosung was the cleanest person in the RFA. In fact, Yoosung annoyed him because of how predictable and basic his lifestyle has been. Vanderwood’s text gave you a specific time to leave the apartment and meet up with a certain Driver Kim. Now, instead of being taken to Jumin’s apartment, you were being brought straight to Yoosung.

You worried what the general RFA reaction would be, but Vanderwood assured you the boy would be “excited and very confused, probably because he never had a woman over before.” He didn’t tell you what Seven thought, and you didn’t ask. You weren’t even sure if he had gotten Seven’s permission because of the sudden change.  But it was too late for all of that now as you stared at the clock, backpack on with a couple snacks and a change of clothes, nervously waiting to go and meet Yoosung Kim and his bodyguards.

_Vanderwood is going to be OK, right? Was he just joking? Or was he trying to make me feel better? What if he never comes back?_

You left a few minutes earlier than scheduled, wanting to calm your nerves. Mr. Ryong waved to you as he jogged past the parking lot, and you gave him a smile and wave back. You felt guilty about making Vanderwood’s life here harder, but part of you hoped it might be the start of something friendly. Having an acquaintanceship with a nice neighbor couple might actually help his cover, not blow it. You walked down the street towards the designated spot, avoiding meeting eyes of anyone you passed. You thought being outside in the nice air might help your nerves, but now it felt amplified. You felt naked and exposed and it showed. You missed Vanderwood’s comforting presence already.

You fiddled with your phone, pretending to be distracted and nonchalant instead. But you didn’t know what you even wanted to do. The phone only allowed browser capabilities, calling, and texting. Not only could you not use the app store, but you couldn’t even download a new ringtone. Seven wasn’t allowing anything on this phone. You hoped Vanderwood would be able to stop by Seven’s house and grab the phone with the RFA app today.

You nearly jumped as a large, black car pulled up next to you and the window began going down – you almost expected the barrel of a gun to point out. But instead, the window rolled down to reveal a friendly older man’s face. Something about it made your defenses fall instantly – you wanted to call him Uncle or Grandpa immediately.

“Driver Kim?” You asked.

He smiled, “Oh, you must be MC. You’re just as described. Please, allow me.” He exited the vehicle to shake your hand and opened the back door for you to get in.

You gasped when he did. _Holy shit._

Jumin Han sat at the other end of back seat, peering at some paperwork. He looked up as the door opened, his expression mostly neutral but he gave a small smile. “Hello, MC, it’s nice to meet you. There’s plenty of room, please, take a seat.”

You clumsily started to climb in before Driver Kim gave a hand to assist you inside. You thanked him and he returned to the driver’s seat, closing the medium to give you and Jumin privacy.

“Hello, Jumin, I didn’t think I’d be seeing you today. Sorry, I was just surprised.”

He nodded. “I don’t think the circumstances were properly explained to you since we’ve been using a third party. But,” he said, eyes a little brighter, “I’m glad it worked out this way. I was very curious about you. I’m on my way to see a client, which happens to be near Yoosung. So, for efficiency purposes Driver Kim is taking us both at once.”

“I’m happy to see you too,” you said. It was genuine. Even though you knew the truth – even though it was laid out for you – your heart still held onto the feeling of kinship. It was irrational and probably part of the delusion your injury caused, but you still decided you wanted to be friends with Jumin Han because you already felt you _were_ friends.

“Would it be alright if I asked you a couple questions?” Although dread had filled you previously when Jaehee asked, now you felt nothing but the welcoming feeling of confidence and trust.

“Sure, please,” you assured him with a smile.

“Is Seven’s maid, Mary Vanderwood, really a woman?”

You nearly snorted, surprised by the question. “Oh, I apologize if that was—,” he began before you waved your hand. “No! No, I just thought it was…funny. You’re funny. I can’t talk about Vanderwood, I think,” you said, another laugh at the end. He raised an eyebrow.

“Ah, understood. And who was the ‘God’ you mentioned in the messenger? A delusion?”

“Oh, um, I think I was talking about Mary.”

He nodded, as if the answer made any sense at all. “And we never really understood how the hacker got you access to the messenger. Do you happen to know anything new?”

_Hacker._

“Hacker?” Your tongue ran over the word as if it were foreign. You thought of what Seven explained, that a hacker was threatening the RFA and behind the explosion, but not to tell the RFA that lest the authorities get involved. But wait – the hacker was how you got access in the first place? It made sense, but the thought didn’t register until right then.

Jumin was giving you a confused expression, waiting for you to continue. “The hacker is how I got into the RFA app?” You looked at him to confirm, but he frowned.

“You…don’t remember?”

Oops. “Oh, I remember most of everything. It’s just I’ve been a little confused since my head injury,” you explained, attempting to reassure him. The distorted voice returned to the edge of your mind. Something was clicking, you just weren’t sure what. “Unknown, the hacker,” you said aloud. “He told me…he told me…” It was there – it was right there. The hacker had spoken with you on the phone. Why would a hacker threaten your life?

“You said the hacker convinced you to go to the apartment to return the phone,” Jumin said, finishing your thought. He was all ears now, staring at you intently.

“Yes!” You proclaimed. “Yes, he…” You gasped.

There it was – the click. You could remember it all now. You sucked in air – you thought you wanted to remember, but now you regretted it. Tears welled up in your eyes – _holy shit_. You tried to focus on your situation, failing to push away the images that felt hot on your temple. A dismembered leg near you, the leg you thought was your own, torn off from the explosion. The unconscious and bloody head of the person you had pushed on your way down the stairs. The fire licking near your skin, threatening to burn you if only if you could scoot just a little closer – it desperately and fruitlessly reaching out towards you with the small gusts of wind. Screaming and crying voices all around you, the sounds of the building as it slowly continued to crumble. The sirens way too far in the distance to save people who were on the edge of death. But a car screeched near you and a frantic pair of arms turned you over, brushing your hair out of your face, yelling something you couldn’t process, putting its fingers on your throat to check your pulse. The face was like a dream, constantly shifting and unrecognizable although familiar.

The arms carried you to a beautiful sports car – you thought surely it was a dream, then. The face got in the driver’s seat, and for a split second when it turned around to check on you before it drove off, you smiled. It was your best friend – Seven.

“MC?” Jumin asked, eyebrows furrowing. “Do we need to pull over? Are you sick?”

You wiped your eyes hurriedly. “No, no, I’m alright. I just…remembered everything.”

“Right now?” You wondered if his even tone was disbelief or just confirmation.

“Yeah, I think… I think we need to hold the party,” you said.

He leaned back in his seat. “Need? You still wish to hold a party in just a week? I suppose it’s not entirely canceled yet, just on hold, and there is still time for guests but…”

“V didn’t cancel the party?” You asked.

“No, he just said it was on hold,” Jumin said with a sigh. He obviously hadn’t agreed to his decision.

“That’s…” You trailed off, trying to figure out his place in all of this. The party was important – not because of the RFA’s charity work, but because it was clearly dangerous to not do so. Unknown had tricked you into becoming a party coordinator, and only attacked you when you refused. He wanted – needed – you to hold this party. And V had agreed to it under illogical circumstances, now hidden with Seven, and even after an attempted murder he still didn’t cancel the party. Out of both a sense of fear, curiosity, and for the sake of Seven and Vs’ lives, holding a party or at least pretending to seemed to be the best option.

“Yes, let’s gather guests, we should still hold it,” you said, mostly to convince yourself rather than Jumin.

“And you feel well enough to do so? Are you sure you’ve regained all of your memories?” You weren’t sure if he was asking out of concern for your health or for the success of the party. You supposed it could be both.

“Yes, definitely. I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“Oh, I’m not afraid, I don’t feel any sort of danger. Should I?”

You grinned, even though Jumin’s neutral expression didn’t make him appear to be joking.

“You’re funny,” you said.

“I’m not sure why you came to that conclusion, but I will graciously accept your compliment,” he smiled back. “And I guess I should also welcome you – again – the RFA. Now that I have met you, I feel you may do well as our party coordinator.”

“Well, I’m not sure how you came to that conclusion, but I accept your compliment.” A small huff escaped his upwards turned lips and he looked back at his papers. “I suppose you will prove your worth and business sense regardless of my first impression. I will be here to assist you. In fact, I have an idea for the very first guest I would like to invite that may be of interest to you.”

You leaned into the comfortable chair, bringing up your temporary phone to jot down a note for the guest. “Oh?”

“Yes, a leader from Doctors with Conscience named ‘Conscious Kim.’ They were very helpful and some of them volunteered their time for victims of the apartment bombing. Luciel said you were taken care of so I’m not sure if they were involved with you, but Assistant Kang and I would like to thank them.”

You wiped your eyes again. “Of course, please.”

“Then I will make sure Assistant Kang gets him in touch.”

You nodded and looked out the window, noticing how young everyone seemed to be. It was getting crowded, and people had backpacks. “MC, also, I was wondering wh--,” Jumin stopped himself as the medium opened and Driver Kim cleared his throat.

“We’ve arrived at SKY University.”

Jumin was reluctant to let you leave the car, insisting that he at least send a medical professional to check your head. But after reminding him that if anything happened you would call him immediately, he relaxed. Even if Yoosung hadn’t eagerly been waiting on the curbside for your arrival with three bodyguards, you thought he was easy to spot. His bright blonde hair, adorable blue jacket with cutesy pins, and bright purple eyes made him – only figuratively – stand above the crowd. He awkwardly shook your hand and addressed you as ‘Miss MC’ before you politely told him to treat you like a friend. Yoosung liked that and took it to heart.

He waved goodbye as the car went off down the road, then finally turned back to you. “Um, so, I’ve been frantically cleaning my room but I haven’t had much time so…I hope you don’t mind the mess as I keep tidying up. Are you hungry? We could stop by and get something? All I have is ramen right now. Um, anything you need before we head into my apartment?”

His nervousness was cute. “Yoosung, I’m alright. I’ll even help you clean if you want.” He raised his hands immediately. “No! No way, you’re a guest. A guy can’t have a girl over and have her clean.”

“Then you can show me some LOLOL.”

His mouth almost went agape. “Y-yeah! If you want, I can show you everything! I mean, anything. I can show you what you want, as far as you want, I mean – yeah that would be cool.”

The bodyguards stayed outside the apartment doors, one of them smiling at Yoosung, telling him it was “fine” if he wanted privacy. His face went red and he shut the door behind him hard.

“What’s wrong?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Eh? N-nothing, it’s just they usually come inside with me. I thought it would be uncomfortable for you to be locked inside with so many big men. They’re pretty nice guys, just intimidating.”

Yoosung guided you to a kitchen chair to sit in and sat across from you, hands fidgeting. “That was considerate of you,” you laughed. “I don’t mind, but I did want to talk a little bit with you alone.”

“M-me? Is that why you didn’t want to stay with Jumin?”

You hesitated. Yes, you did want to talk to Yoosung about Seven, V, and Rika, but nothing heavy so early in the conversation. You diverted instead for the moment.

“Yes, I didn’t get to talk to you after…the incident. I thought this might be a good time.”

He nodded, his big eyes hanging on your every word. “Sure! I have questions myself, but I know you’re injured so I don’t want to pressure you or anything. I’m actually really happy we’re hanging out today, I wasn’t planning on going to class so now I actually have an excuse. Oh!” He dug in his pocket and took out his cell phone.

“And I don’t mind if you want to use my phone to talk to the RFA, either.” He unlocked it and placed it on the table. “Zen just got up not too long ago and he’s been spamming me for an hour, asking why you’re staying with me. I think he wants to come over, but he has rehearsals.”

You considered it, but decided not to reach for the phone.

“Thank you, Yoosung… Actually, I don’t want to talk to anyone else right now. Um, so, I want to tell you something to start. Jumin knows now and I’ll tell everyone else later, but I lost some memory at the explosion.”

Yoosung gasped, leaning in to get a better look. “Are you alright, MC? You have amnesia?”

You shook your head. “No, well, I did for a couple days, but I remember everything now. When I hit my head I thought that all the RFA were close friends, but now I know it’s only been a few days. But mostly, I still want to hold the party.” A smile flashed across his face, but died down quickly.

“What makes you say that? Even after your injury?”

You nodded, and you bordered on a half-truth as you continued. “Yes, I realized how much I like you guys and how nice you’ve been to me, so I definitely want to stay in RFA as the party coordinator.”

Yoosung grinned, his arms moving onto the kitchen table now. “That’s awesome! I’m so glad you’re staying with us to hold parties again. Since Rika chose you, I knew you wouldn’t really leave!”

The opportunity presented itself but you still hesitated. A pang of guilt arose – Yoosung was a nice guy, and you were starting to feel manipulative if you started asking him questions about Rika now.

“Hey, Yoosung?”

“Hm?”

“Did Seven say anything to you recently about me?”

He looked surprised, then averted his eyes. “Um, not really, but he did ask if we talked about anything over the phone. I’m sure he can read all private messages, and we only had one phone call the first day, so I’m not sure why he asked. Does he know about your memory?”

You nodded slowly. You couldn’t believe Seven was suspicious of you – even if it was understandable if it was. “He did say to be nice to you, though and let him know if you say anything weird.”

Your heart dropped. Seven saying he wanted to protect you suddenly seemed like a lie. Was he…using you to get to the hacker somehow? Was he using Yoosung to spy on you? But you had requested to stay with Yoosung, not him, so it didn’t make sense.

“But I think he’s just being cautious,” Yoosung started up again. “I bet he’s just worried about you cause of your memory and injury. If you start saying stuff about looking at God again, I guess that’s weird enough for me to tell him,” he laughed. You laughed with him – it made sense, and you wanted to believe him.

“Thank you, Yoosung.” His computer beeped and he stood up. “Oh! Um, you wanted to see LOLOL right? Now’s a good time, actually. There should be an event starting.”

“Sure.”

He picked up his chair and hauled it over to his computer seat. “Sit with me and I’ll show you some magic!”

At first you were just appeasing Yoosung, nodding and asking basic questions about his favorite game because you found his excited babbling endearing. But as the first hour became two, you found yourself engrossed in the bright-colored world of LOLOL to the point you had forgotten all about your RFA and bombing woes. You wondered what kind of computer you’d need to run such a beautiful game. In the third hour, you both had headsets plugged into his audio jacks, listening to him direct missions and speak with his guild members while you sometimes asked questions for all of LOLOL to hear. But even the avatars of Yoosung’s guild enjoyed having you around to answer questions and show off their abilities, and you let Yoosung parade around his “girl friend who is interested in LOLOL.”

In the fourth hour, Yoosung muted both of your microphones and took off his headset with a heavy sigh. “This is really fun! Hey, should I make you something to eat? I think we skipped lunch and Zen will kill me if I don’t take care of you properly.” Your stomach grumbled – you had also forgotten about lunch. Suddenly, you felt very concerned for his health. He was only stopping because of you and he had still forgotten, which wasn’t a good indication of his eating habits.

You helped him in the kitchen, making a mess as you both laughed and confused one another about what would go inside the omurice. The result was tasty – but oh was it ugly. “Oh my god, I have to show Vanderwood,” you said, taking out your phone to snap a picture before you took a second bite.

“Seven’s maid?” Yoosung asked, taking a picture himself. You nearly choked. “Um, y-yeah, I like his maid.” Yoosung looked between you and the phone, you felt like his violets could see right through you. “Hey, you have your phone, why can’t you get on the messenger?”

“It’s a temporary one Seven gave me, it can’t do anything but browse and call,” you explained, relieved the topic was dropped. “Where’s the real phone then?”

“It’s at Seven’s house,” you said. You were starting to feel uncomfortable, the happy atmosphere quickly dissipating.

“Oh…” He seemed like he wanted to say more, but he got quiet instead. You continued eating as he tapped his utensils against his plate.

“Will you get it back soon?”

“Um, I should, very soon. Maybe even today if I’m lucky.” It was wishful thinking, really. His phone beeped and he thumbed through it, a smile forming on his face. “Hey, MC, read the chat.” He handed it over to you and you took it gently.

 **Yoosung** : [Image]

 **Jaehee:** …What is this?

 **Zen:** ???

 **Zen:** Omurice, I think?

_Jumin has joined the chatroom._

**Jaehee:** Mr. Han! How did the meeting go? You didn’t pick up my call…

 **Jumin:** Hello, meow. Is this what commoner omurice looks like?

 **Zen:** Don’t meow;;;

 **Jaehee:** You didn’t answer me…

 **Zen:** And don’t ignore Jaehee either!

 **Jumin:** ? The meeting went fine, meow. They signed it within the hour.

 **Jaehee:** What…

 **Zen:** DON’T MEOW.

 **Jaehee:** It was scheduled for three hours. Where have you been;;;

 **Jumin:** hangin, yo.

 **Jaehee:** …

 **Zen:** …

 **Jumin:** Is there a problem?

 **Zen:** You, you’re the problem.

 **Jaehee:** I really needed you in the office…

 **Jumin** : I was scheduled out for the meeting, are you saying you incorrectly scheduled my time?

 **Zen** : Don’t listen to this jerk, Jaehee. He doesn’t know anything about caring for other human beings!

 **Jaehee** : No, Mr. Han, it’s just if you had free time there were a couple documents that could’ve been dealt with so I could go home earlier…

 **Jumin:** I was joking. I’ve looked over documents with the extra time.

 **Zen:** Why didn’t you say that in the first place…

 **Jumin:** Sorry, I was distracted by the omurice.

 **Zen:** …Is that a joke too?

 **Jumin:** You seem to have difficulty reading my jokes.

 **Jaehee:** Well I’ll wait for you in your office for the documents.

 **Jumin:** yup

 **Jaehee:** …

_Jaehee has left the chatroom._

  
You didn’t notice that Yoosung was looking over your shoulder now at the messenger, a smile on his face. “Hey, say something to them!”

 **Yoosung:** Hello!

 **Zen:** Yoosung…that is omurice, right?

 **Yoosung:** It’s my specialty, handsome.

 

You giggled as you moved the phone away from Yoosung’s hands when they attempted to retrieve it back. “Don’t do anything too crazy!” He laughed, relenting to let you continue your charade.

 **Zen:** Ew, dude. You’re not wrong but don’t;;;

 **Yoosung:** I thought you liked it when people called you that?

 **Zen:** Yeah…girls.

 **Yoosung:** That’s discrimination!

 **Jumin** : Yes, you shouldn’t discriminate, Zen. How is MC?

 **Zen:** drop it.

 **Zen:** I hate to say it, but yeah that was my next question, too;;

 **Yoosung:** MC and I are having a great time!

 **Yoosung:** She’s really cute, I think I’ll try to kiss her…

 **Zen:** wasyu

_Zen has left the chatroom._

_Zen has entered the chatroom._

**Zen:** WHAT?!

 

You pulled your eyes away to reassure a red-faced Yoosung, promising to finally stop the ruse.

 

 **Jumin:** Oh? Are you attempting to begin a relationship?

 **Zen:** No! What?! Absolutely not.

 **Zen:** Yoosung pull yourself together.

 **Zen:** Yoosung sAY SOMETHING

 **Yoosung** : Heyy hehe sorry

 **Yoosung:** This isn’t Yoosung, it’s MC! He’s letting me borrow his phone. : )

 **Zen:** What…oh god..I was so shocked;;

 **Jumin:** Do people share their phones often? That can’t be secure.

 **Yoosung:** Sorry for joking so long~ I missed you guys!

 **Zen:** Hopefully not as much as I missed you, honey!

 **Jumin:** Yes, it was pleasant to see you this morning. If V proceeds with the party…

 **Jumin:** Then I’ll be seeing you again soon.

 **Zen:** …You saw her?!

 **Yoosung:** Yeah! He was in the car with me when we went to Yoosung’s place.

 **Zen:** How convenient…

 **Zen:** I’m going to go…I’ll see you soon, MC.

 **Zen:** Think of me~

 **Yoosung:** I will~

 **Zen:** ; )

_Zen has left the chatroom._

**Jumin:** I’m at my office now. I’ll be taking off, then.

 **Yoosung:** Good luck today!

 **Jumin:** ?

 **Jumin:** Ah, well, same to you.

_Jumin has left the chatroom._

_Yoosung has left the chatroom._

 

You handed the phone back to Yoosung and thanked him.

“You almost got me in trouble there,” he said, sighing and sitting back down across the table. “So, hey, can I ask you something else?”

“Of course…”

“What was Seven’s place like?”

“You’ve…never been?”

“Yeah, no one but V knows his address.”

You were starting to get cold feet. What was your deal? You didn’t need to get involved in this, everything about Seven was elusive, secretive, and dangerous. If you minded your own business maybe…

Vanderwood’s face came to mind – he was putting his life on the line to protect Seven, even if partially to save his own skin because of their association.

You took in Yoosung, the way his messy hair framed his face, his jacket that was starting to fade, his eager and gentle smile that reminded you of a puppy, and his excited laughter. The idea of Yoosung being blown up, his bloody leg laying near you, was not an option. No, you wanted to protect Yoosung, too. And the cautious but friendly Jumin, the flirtatious and considerate Zen, the overworked but protective Jaehee. At the very least, these people you came to enjoy in your limited time together who did not deserve to die.

“Yoosung, can I trust you? Can you keep a secret?” _Yes, he can._

“Yeah, of course. What’s wrong, MC?”

“I’m worried that maybe Seven and V’s secret is too big for them to handle,” you admitted.

“You…think so, too,” sighed Yoosung, his bright eyes still full of wonder. “But there’s nothing I can do if they won’t tell me anything.”

“No!”

His eyebrows raised. “N-no?”

“Maybe we can help each other.”

“Like, work together?”

“Yes, I…I’m not supposed to tell you, but I think you should know. About the explosion.”

Your heartbeat sped up – you were directly defying Seven, but this was something you needed to do.

“Oh, wow…Are you sure?” He asked. You nodded. “Mhmm, and um, in exchange, I kind of wanted some information.”

He tapped a finger on the table, studying your expression.

“Is it about Rika?”

Your eyes opened wide. “Yeah, actually.”

“I thought so. I’m the only one who knows a lot about her and is willing to talk.”

Yoosung was far more observant than you took him for. You took comfort in knowing that.

“So what happened?” He asked, finger going still and relaxing in the chair.

“Well, I’ll start from the beginning. I had a bag and started cleaning up after sitting in the apartment for awhile, thinking I should go home and get a change of clothes. And then I got the phone call.”

Telling everything to Yoosung was easy, he held his questions for after you completed a full thought and encouraged you to take breathers when you got to the heavy parts. The only thing you left out was that the ‘Agent’ who you stayed with was the same person as Vanderwood, the ‘maid.’ Yoosung had no problems with not knowing who the identity of the agent was, and reminded you that you were brave to get this far despite what you’d been through.

“It’s a lot to go through in just a couple days, I’m sorry,” Yoosung said, looking down into his glass of water.

“I feel a lot better now, thanks,” you said. He opened up about Rika in a little bit more detail than necessary, but seeing his smile as he described their volunteering adventures was enough to justify letting him mull things over. Finally, he got to V. He admitted that V taking up so much of her time made him jealous, but he was happy for them in the beginning. But as things went on, he noticed a weird atmosphere around them that no one else seemed to. And he cursed himself when that day came, two years ago, for doing and saying nothing. You embraced him as he cried for a few minutes, and let him dryly describe the suspicious details V gave to the police in his apartment.

“I just don’t know if Rika is even dead, and that’s what hurts me every day. I don’t know whether I can or should move on, because what if she’s alive and I’m the only one she has left to even find her?”

Your heart was breaking. The secret that V and Seven had, if it was related to Rika being alive at all, was absolutely, irrevocably cruel. But now, even with the new information, it was still unclear if Rika’s death was an unfortunate happenstance or directly correlated. Part of you wondered if Rika had chosen to escape from the RFA itself – the hacker wanted parties to be held lest they killed the party coordinator, and maybe she took the threat into her own hands. But now that you were the party coordinator…

You gripped Yoosung’s hand. The hacker was not going to hurt him, not on your watch. Yoosung’s hatred of V was starting to make sense. If there was a hacker threatening Rika this entire time and he _knew_ …No, you wouldn’t go there yet. You had plenty of hope left for V. You decided to believe in Yoosung’s judgment about their relationship. V and Rika loved each other, so there had to be something else between them and Seven. Whatever it was, for the sake of the future of the RFA and the safety of its members, you committed yourself to getting to the bottom of it. But you needed help. You needed Vanderwood.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

It was Yoosung’s idea to go back to the ‘scene of the crime.’ The bodyguards were surprisingly chatty with him on the way, which you found cute and not like the stereotypes of bodyguards at all. Yoosung told you in private he’d like to invite them to the party, to which you agreed.

The area was still closed off, rubble and burned artifacts littered the area and volunteers sorted through things to salvage. It wasn’t until you saw some tire marks that your head started throbbing. “If it’s too much, we can leave,” said Yoosung, concerned as you massaged your temple. “No, I’m alright,” you lied. You wanted to at least look around. You were confident you already remembered everything, but you’d been wrong before. There was no harm in jogging any lingering memories or finding any clues.

“Some more information came out about the explosion,” said Yoosung as he read something on his phone. “It says the bomb was probably on the same floor as where Rika stayed.”

It would make the most sense – if Unknown had intended to kill the party coordinator, the bomb would’ve been planted near Rika’s apartment.

“Say, MC?” Said Yoosung, now squatting down and inspecting the remains of a dog collar. “Do you think…it was _in_ Rika’s apartment?”

“Yeah, maybe…do you think she knew about the bomb?”

“No way!” He stood up quickly. “That’d be crazy! I’m just surprised because Seven said he put in a special security system for her, there’s no way someone could break in without him knowing. So I guess that means it was in a neighbor’s apartment.”

“But Unknown did break in – to the apartment and the app. He locked the door he…”

Yoosung went quiet. “MC?”

“The bomb…it was in her apartment. It _was_ the special security system.”

“What?!” He practically yelled, getting the attention of the bodyguards. “Sorry!” He called to them, before getting close and whispering to you.

“What are you talking about?”

“Before the explosion, when the door locked…This computer voice said ‘Special security system on.’”

“Those exact words?” Yoosung said, voice full of disbelief.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Maybe you’re confused? You didn’t mention it before, you know sometimes people get false memories w—“

“Yoosung…” You said, exasperated. “You don’t believe me?”

“Rika would never ask Seven to put a _bomb_ in her apartment. It’s just not possible,” he said, folding his arms and looking away.

“What if she didn’t have a choice?”

“Why would Seven threaten Rika? He loves her and V, they helped him when he was young,” he sighed.

“You’re right, that wouldn’t make sense either.”

“Maybe the hacker made her – maybe it was threatening Seven and Rika.”

“Rika always wanted to hold charity parties though, she would never need to be threatened.”

You were both stumped. You looked towards the ruins of the apartment while Yoosung returned his gaze to the dog collar. A silence fell over the rocks and on your shoulders.

“Hey, Yoosung…You want to go for ice cream or something?”

His eyes moved up to meet yours slowly. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

“We can’t talk about this in the chat,” he said as you both walked towards the bodyguards.

“I know. Do we meet up later to keep talking, then?”

“Hmm, do you think that might be suspicious?”

“Of course not,” you said with a smile, “Because we’re friends, right?”

He smiled back. “Y-yeah! Friends!”

It was exciting to be back in the city again – to feel free and like your life wasn’t in danger for it. The bodyguards, you, and Yoosung all sat around and ate ice cream outside at the parlor’s table. It was a situation you never thought you’d be in and you loved it. You couldn’t wait to invite them to the party. As you waited for one of the bodyguards to retrieve the car, Yoosung’s phone rang.

“H-hold on! Seven, she’s fine, she’s here with me right now…Yeah. Hold on.” He addressed you, pulling away from the phone. “Hey, Seven said he tried calling you but you didn’t answer?”

You pulled the temporary phone out of your pocket. It was dead. Oops. You forgot to charge it.

Yoosung stifled a laugh. “A-ah, sorry, her phone died. But yeah, everything’s alright. Um, sure.”

He handed you the phone, and you felt your skin prickle. You had to stop being on edge every time he called.

“Hey, Seven, everything OK?”

“As OK as they can be,” he sighed. “I feel like I’m in a falling spaceship. How is it falling? No one knows~”

“You’ll land somewhere nice, I’m sure.”

“Hallelujah!”

You weren’t sure why you were even worried in the first place.

“MC,” he said, tone changing. “I’m going to change lines by a request. Don’t say anything, alright? Just say ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ I’ll see you.”

Before you could ask, the phone beeped. You looked, but the call was still connected.

“Is this MC?”

“Van—“ You stopped yourself. Excitement bubbled in your stomach. You were relieved to hear his voice. “Ah, yes.”

“I’m sending Driver Kim for you and he’ll be at Yoosung’s apartment, so you’ll be able to come back early. Are you safe?”

“Yes…”

“You don’t sound too happy about that. You’re having fun?”

“No…ah, well, yes.”

“That’s good to hear. Then…bye.”

The call beeped – it actually ended this time. You returned the phone to Yoosung, but he didn’t take it back. “What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Nothing.”

“Did Seven say something?”

“No, I’m just leaving soon.”

“Oh…” Yoosung looked towards the street as the car began pulling up.

“I guess I’m going to miss you. I had fun.”

He laughed awkwardly, rubbing his shoulder.

“I had fun too! I just wish maybe we met under better circumstances.”

“Me too, Yoosung.”

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

You wondered about Driver Kim’s history. He was Jumin Han’s driver, but he seemed to be at any of the RFA’s beck and call. He must be trustworthy to serve both the needs of a hacker and corporate heir. Yoosung stood near you as you both discussed your next steps. What was once a new face now felt like home. Strange how so much could change in each cycle of 24 hours.

Kim opened the door for you, greeting Yoosung by name and telling him he looked different from the last party.

“Goodbye for now, Yoosung,” you said with a wave as you moved to step into the car.

“Vandy?” You gasped. He raised a finger to his lips and pulled you all the way in. He reached over and closed the door before Kim could or Yoosung could see.

He looked just as pristine as he did this morning, as if he had never left. But you knew better. You wondered if there were any new scars or bruises beneath his clothes. You readjusted yourself to sit properly in your seat and Vanderwood closed the medium.

“What is with you people and not saying you’re going to be in the car too?” You breathed out with a laugh at the end. Vanderwood’s eyes narrowed.

“I thought something happened to you!”

You were taken back, not expecting him to raise his voice at you. He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked up with a sigh. “Why would you let your phone die,” he said, voice back to a normal volume. “…It’s the only way I can reliably check up on you. When you suddenly went silent, when the location stopped transmitting I just…Do you not understand how important that thing is?”

He sat back in the seat, folding his arms.

“And now I’m out here looking like an idiot, compromising my mission and being sloppy just to leave early and make sure you were still kicking.”

“I’m so sorry, Vanderwood.” You felt the car start to pull off.

You felt horrible. You guessed, despite everything, you really weren’t taking this seriously enough. You had to start considering how other people were going to be effected by you now. Vanderwood’s position was unique, a dead phone meant a lot more to him and Seven than to the RFA members. You laced your fingers with his.

“I promise it won’t happen again. Really, I’m sorry. I didn’t even know you were checking on me at all.”

“I’m always…I mean, it’s my job right now. I check up on you, yes.” He tightened his hand around yours.

“I like to think you’d check up on me even if it wasn’t your job.”

He gave out a sarcastic ‘ha’ and unwrapped his fingers. He pulled you in next to him and leaned his head on yours.

“Do you remember when you threatened me? Saying if I’m faking my injury that you’d end me?”

“Mm, yeah. I didn’t know you.”

“You know me now?”

“I know enough. Don’t reminisce, it’s only been a couple days.”

You moved a little to the side to wrap your arms around and hug him. He hugged you back.

“Vandy, we need to talk.”

“About?”

“Seven. Yoosung. V. Rika. My whole day.”

“…I see.” He pulled back so you could look at each other. “Can it wait a little longer?”

You thought about Vanderwood’s hectic, dangerous life that you had unceremoniously entered five days ago while he had years of dealing with threats. “Of course. And…you can talk about your day later, too. If you want.”

He kissed your cheek. “Not happening, but thanks.”

You laughed. “A lot of things happened recently that you said wouldn’t.”

“You’ve really got a mouth on you,” he sighed, a small smile growing.

“You like it.”

“…I do.”

A small bump on the road made Vanderwood lean in, but he didn’t sit back. “We should really have seatbelts on,” he chuckled. “Well you _are_ all about danger,” you said, leaning in, too.

He kissed your nose, then your lips. You kissed back, one hand raising to gently touch his cheek as you closed your eyes. You felt his hand caress your arm, gloved fingers trailing down, then back up. You felt the second hand on your other arm, both timidly wrapping around them as Vanderwood shifted his body weight into you. You let him push you down into the cushions of the seat, another bump making your teeth clash with his. “Ow,” he laughed, before kissing you again. He moved himself over you until he was on top, body between your legs. Vanderwood’s hair framed around your face along with the sweet cinnamon fragrance that fell from his lips. It was new, but you didn’t mind it. Every kiss with him seemed new, before it was the taste of vanilla, before that something similar to citrus and his natural musk.

“MC,” he breathed out, his hot air tickling your neck. “You’re addicting, you know?” He buried his lips in-between your neck and shoulder, the tip of his tongue pushing into the cartilage as his mouth closed around it and pulled upwards. His teeth scraped against you, just barely – enough to make you gasp, before he stifled any more noise with his lips pressing back into yours.

“What am I going to do with you?” He whispered onto your tongue. Vanderwood got heavier onto you, you felt his hands tighten their hold on your arms. “Vandy?” You gasped out. “You’re heavy.” He sat back, lifting you up with him.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, softly touching his forehead against yours. The medium slowly opened, but neither of you moved.

“We’re almost there,” Driver Kim announced.

“Thank you,” you called out. The medium closed back. Vanderwood closed his eyes but you watched him closely.

“What are you thinking?” You asked.

“I’m worried.”

“About?”

“If I’m making a far worse mistake than Seven.”

Your heart flipped in your chest. “What do you mean?”

“Enemies of Seven are less likely to target the RFA because they might think they’re just colleagues. But you…”

“You sound like you want to keep me around after all of this is over.”

He opened his eyes, a new spark in them. “I…” He pulled back his forehead, his hands clasped over yours. “…If I could, would you stay?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh SNAP, is that a confession?!
> 
> The hardest part about writing this story is separating the timeline in my head since I'm doing this from a Deep Story/Regular viewpoint and not After Story even though I'm playing through AS right now. I'll try not to confuse the two, but if I do please let me know and I'll fix it.
> 
> This was a really fun day to write. I really enjoyed Yoosung, and I felt it was only appropriate for him to get some time in this route considering that [SPOILER ALERT] Yoosung Kim was right about everything. I hope you liked it!


	6. Day 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderwood and MC have some miscommunication. A guest(s) appears.

“Get decent, Seven will be here in an hour or so,” he called to you from outside the doors of the bedroom you lazed in. Vanderwood hadn’t really spoken to you since the incident, since you hesitated when answering his question. _Stay, with Vanderwood?_ It was sudden, you didn’t think it was even up for debate. But clearly, you were wrong about him.

And maybe now, was he feeling was wrong about you? But you _did_ want to stay, you just weren’t sure what your relationship was. It’d only been a few days, and it’s not like he told you he _lov_ …it’s not like he said anything about having romantic feelings towards you.

Was he mad at you? It was so awkward. Another afternoon wasted as you had locked yourself in Vanderwood’s room, only leaving when he brought food to share. But today, you had to break the ice. Still in your pajamas, which was really one of Vanderwood’s older-looking shirts, you quickly changed into one of the various fancy outfits Vanderwood had bought for you. Today, you threw on a dress because it was easier. You frowned, feeling a breeze across your entire body as you discovered the style included tiny holes nearly everywhere. You made your way to the kitchen, where you found him preparing a full breakfast. It was clearly for two, but you didn’t want another silent meal with him.

Still hesitant on how to start, you decided to make your presence known by assisting him. You picked up some of the bowls and plates and started setting up the table for the different food dishes. You wondered if Vanderwood liked to cook, since he seemed to enjoy cleaning. Your eyes grazed the vegetable omelets, the seasoned tofu, the rice and beans, and the kimchi. He really went all out, today, even though something smelled weird in the kitchen. How early was he up, exactly? It didn’t give you a good feeling.

Vanderwood didn’t look at you as he set down the dishes on the table, your heart sinking further with each one until it was at the bottom of your chest and he was finished. He progressed to sit and you copied his movements. His eyes finally found yours as he leaned back in the chair.

“You look like you have something to say?” He said, calmly.

_Oh_. You finally put your finger on the smell.

“Do you smoke?”

He stared at you. The smell of the dishes seemed so far away, barely appetizing to your nose as your stomach twisted in knots.

“I try not to. Is that your question?”

“N-no! Sorry…”

There it was, the awkward silence that you were avoiding.

“Is there something you wanted to say?” You said, turning the question back on him.

 “Yes, but after we eat.”

You nodded.

It became another silent meal, much to your chagrin. Vanderwood finished first, resting his chin in his hand as he stared at nothing in particular. You expected him to at least check his phone while he waited, but he did nothing at all. You felt yourself starting to panic – you could read the room, even if it was just this once.

“Are you getting rid of me?” You spat out, placing down your chopsticks and leaving your plate unfinished.

Vanderwood didn’t return from space, still gazing into it.

“This is just a temporary hold, so I wouldn’t exactly call it ‘getting ri—‘”

“No!”

The space trip ended, Vanderwood finally turned his head to face you again.

“No?” He looked unamused, unfazed by your outburst.

“I don’t want to leave, I want to stay here, with you.”

“It’s not really my decision to make. Seven thinks you—“

“I don’t care what Seven thinks!”

Was it too honest? You weren’t sure. Vanderwood’s eyebrow raised, you looked down at your plate.

You continued, trying to find a way to explain yourself at a rational human’s pace. You two never even talked about yesterday like you were supposed to. “I’m sorry. I want to stay, I want to stay with you. I don’t want to be with Seven or the RFA…I like them, but I like you more. You said…”

You hesitated, looking back at Vanderwood. “…You said if you could find a way to keep me here…”

“It was a question, not a promise. Of course you can’t stay here.”

The sting hurt worse than when he said you weren’t friends. You felt like throwing the plate at him right then – how could he say that so calmly? You wanted to cry – why would he say that so calmly? He didn’t mean it. There was no way he meant it.

“Why would you ask then?” You hissed out, trying to keep it together. Heat was beginning to boil in your torso and temple, you involuntarily puffed out air.

He strummed his fingers on the table, looking away again. He sighed.

“Seven said he’s getting close to something dangerous. If something happens to him, not only will you probably be the next target, but I will have to be re-assigned. Understand? It’s best to prepare…just in case.”

You nodded, then stopped yourself. No. No. You stood up from the table, he peered back to watch you.

“I’m not leaving.”

“After what I just explained? Why?”

You folded your arms, backing out from the kitchen, before you returned to the bedroom. You just needed a moment to process what he was saying, even if your answer remained the same.

“MC?” You heard him call.

Were you being a brat? No, this wasn’t a simple difference of opinion. Your heartbeat sped up. If you left now, there was a chance it would be for good based on what he told you. Even if Seven was fine and everything got peacefully resolved, you and Vanderwood would still be separating on a bad note. You couldn’t afford to lose him. It was a sudden, passionate feeling. No, you were not leaving him under any circumstance.

A shadow made you turn to see him in the doorway, his own arms crossed. “What are you doing? Talk to me.”

“ _You_ talk to _me_!” You started pacing. You didn’t mean to yell, you knew everything was coming out wrong – it was all wrong.

“I’m trying,” he declared, arms uncrossing. “You’re not making sense.”

“ _You’re_ not making any sense!”

“You’re just copying what I’m saying,” he grimaced.

“Do you like me or not?”

You turned away, embarrassed.

“Of course,” he answered immediately and nonchalantly.

You sighed. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Do I?”

You faced him again, even though it was the last thing you wanted to do.

“I-I’m _asking_ if you…if y-you maybe you feel…”

_Ding dong._

You both froze in place. The timing couldn’t be worse. Vanderwood didn’t move, but you used this as your opportunity to escape his fixated gaze. Your entire head felt like it was on fire, even the breezy holes of your dress not cooling you enough to breathe. You focused on the floor as you sped past him to the door, ignoring the half-hearted call of your name.

You fumbled with the lock and opened the door, trying to project a smile for Seven.

But it wasn’t Seven. A young man with dark purple hair and green eyes stood there, just as surprised to see you as you were to see him. But the shock subsided into a friendly smile. A solicitor? Suddenly, your skin prickled. This was Vanderwood’s home, you weren’t supposed to just _open the door._ But now it was too late, you stared at him and attempted to speak. “Um, h-hello. How may I help you?” You glanced over your shoulder to see Vanderwood slowly approaching. The man gave a small wave. “Oh, sorry…I must have the wrong home. Apologies if I have disturbed you, haha,” he said. He bowed politely. “No problem…” He winked and began walking away. You watched him begin his descent down the steps before finally closing the door.

“You are _not_ allowed to answer my door,” Vanderwood stated. You didn’t have to turn and see him to know he was upset. How could you keep making these same mistakes? Could you do something bad enough to not only get yourself killed, but Vanderwood? You didn’t even check the peephole before opening. You sighed, debating whether to apologize or just stay silent. You chose silence as you locked the latches.

Vanderwood’s ringtone ran out, you heard him step away to answer while you continued facing the door and its contraption.

“Seven, calm down, yes. Yes…Are you sure? Alright, thanks. Get here quickly, then. Bye.”

“Is Seven alright?” You asked, clearing your throat but still sounding meek.

“I’m not sure. We really should not have opened that door, I think.”

_Shit._

“Sorry…”

He didn’t answer, his footsteps fading as he went off to do…something. You slunk down, turning to have your back rest against the door. The fear and anxiety that ate at you from your argument with Vanderwood now faded into a numb sadness. The last few days replayed in your head, you wondered where and how it all seemed to go wrong. But, was it ever even right? The man gurgling, the gun to your head, the dismembered leg, the _probably dead_ person who lay still not too far away. Were you using Vanderwood as a coping mechanism? What about your whole, pseudo-investigation with that poor boy Yoosung? You groaned, hanging your head.

 You saw his socks before you heard his footsteps. “Seven’s here. Are you sick?” That was his polite way of saying ‘move out of the way,’ you were sure. You begrudgingly stood, crossing your arms and walking behind him so he could open the door. Although he claimed Seven was there, Vanderwood still peeked before unlocking.

Vanderwood locked the door back as Seven stepped in, quickly taking off his shoes. In his arms he held a laptop and on his back a small bag. It wasn’t the Seven that you had known so far. You knew him as serious and concerned, and you knew him as goofy. This? This was a destructive mix. His hair was disheveled, he looked nervous as his eyes darted around the room, and his face couldn’t decide whether to smile or frown as it twitched between the two.

“Mary,” he said with a laugh, his face deciding to appear cheerful. “So good to see you. No taser?” Vanderwood audibly sighed. “Don’t start. Just sit down and let’s get to it.” Vanderwood started walking towards the couch where his own laptop sat.

“Right,” his face now full of remorse. But only briefly, as his smile returned when he looked at you. “Oh ho! MC, you’re staying here for today? Not with Jumin? Or maybe cutie boy _Yoo-sung_?” He emphasized the name, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Your heart shot up in your chest. You glanced over at Vanderwood, but he didn’t seem to react as he sat down, his back to the two of you. Seven followed your gaze, a new expression forming – not happy or sad, but curious. You looked away from him before answering, hoping your embarrassment wasn’t too obvious. “Um, yeah, it’s nice here. Clean.”

“Uh huh,” Seven hummed. You watched him take off and sit next to Vanderwood, also putting his laptop on the table.

You wondered what to do now. Should you go? Were they about to exchange top secret information?

“Nothing new from Gally?” Vanderwood asked, turning his laptop on.

“Since you broke his teeth? No, he’s not talking much,” Seven laughed. Vanderwood lightly hit his head.

“Be serious, please. Have you decoded the H-bin?”

“Uh, haha, about that.”

“What,” Vanderwood snapped.

“I haven’t actually done F or G.”

“Are you, ha, serious?” Was that a laugh from Vanderwood? That couldn’t be good.

“I’ve been busy,” Seven whined.

“We’ll both have plenty of time in Hell if you don’t hurry up,” spat Vanderwood. He then sighed. “About that, actually, I have questions.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, I--,” Seven was cut off by a single finger from Vanderwood.

“No, listen. You’ve been acting weird, well, weird for you. You’re involved or targeted by some sort of terrorist. It’s not OK. Civilians died. I think I need to be involved. If what you said about that man who came to the door is true, then I’m already involved against my will. They’re already seeking me out, or even just MC. But since she’s being staying here, that includes me, now. So I’m not really giving you an option here. You’re going to have to tell me what’s going on.”

Seven was silent. If he was stunned, so were you. Had he planned this? You had no idea Vanderwood was going to follow through on speaking with Seven, and so upfront about it at that. It was a bold demand, one he had clearly been thinking about.

Half a minute passed, Vanderwood began typing on his laptop. Seven finally sighed and turned around on the couch to look at you.

“Oh, um, s-sorry, I’ll go hide out in the bedroom,” you declared.

“Wait,” he said. “Did something happen yesterday with you and Yoosung?”

“Oh, no…”

That got Vanderwood’s attention, his clacking pausing for a moment before continuing.

“Then why did you go to the site of the explosion?”

You tensed. Right, of course he knew, you were positive he traced all of the RFA’s phone locations just like Vanderwood did with you.

“I felt I had to, I thought I was still missing or forgetting something.”

“Like what?”

“Enough,” said an irritated Vanderwood. “Focus on debriefing me instead of interrogating her.”

“It’s related,” said a defensive Seven.

“She’s not giving you any new information until I have a rundown.”

“She’s _my_ friend. You trust me, right MC?”

“I-I have to use the bathroom,” you lied, scurrying off.

You ran in and shut the door. Was this happening? Was Seven actually going to be honest now that Vanderwood had approached him? If you told him you were snooping around with Yoosung and that you knew he was the one who put the bomb in the apartment, how would he react in his current state? How would Vanderwood feel about it? Was it even more reason to get rid of you? You felt yourself tearing up.

You heard voices from the other side of the door.

“No, just, let me,” whispered Vanderwood.

“Why?” Whispered Seven.

“Just go,” Vanderwood sighed.

_Knock knock._

You creaked open the door, Vanderwood pushed in without permission.

“H-hey!” You started. Vanderwood put a finger to his lips and closed the door back, before ushering you to the other side of the large bathroom.

He put his hands on your shoulders and kept his voice down. “MC, I’m sorry. We should have talked earlier about yesterday. Before I do this…are you sure?”

“Sure?” You said, memorizing the patterns of the floor.

“Sure I should be involved. He said you wanted to still be the party coordinator, that RFA was talking suggestions last night. That doesn’t sound like something someone in danger would do.”

You shrugged off his hands and nodded. It was hard to look him in the eyes. “If I’m not party coordinator, I’m afraid something else might happen.”

He was quiet for a moment before his gloved hand rested under your chin. He started to move your head up but let it go.

“Alright.” And he made his way out of the bathroom, you following close behind.

Seven was on the couch, typing with one hand and stuffing his face with chips with the other. Vanderwood flared up instantly. “No, no, no! No eating those things on my couch! Disgusting!”

With a full mouth, Seven frowned, “What? It’s just chips!”

“ _Just chips_? Those things leave crumbs everywhere! You want bugs, mice?”

He laughed, gulping down what he had. “If animals can get in maybe your security isn’t so good!”

You didn’t know where he was hiding it before, but you recognized the blue light of the taser suddenly in Vanderwood’s hand.

“Gaaah! OK, OK, no chips…” Seven pouted, stuffing the half-eaten pack of chips into his bag.

“So?” Vanderwood said, arms crossed and standing tall against the seated Seven.

Seven sighed, glancing over at you before facing Vanderwood again.

“I…do need your help.”

“And why is that, 707?”

“I’m battling a hacker, and kind of losing. He’s targeting the RFA and its information, although I don’t know why yet.”

Vanderwood scoffed. “Wow, a whole team against a charity?”

“No…he, singular.”

“…Eh?” His body language seemed to change with the detail. “One person is beating you? That’s…not good. That’s not possible.”

“Yes…”

“So you know his identity? What organization he’s with?”

“I don’t know who it is, but…I think they know who I am. And he’s with something called Mint Eye.”

“How do you know it’s a he then?”

“The way he types, his threats, has to be a guy. Just calls himself ‘Unknown.’”

Your eyes lit up, you’d thought about that name so many times.

“…Alright,” Vanderwood sighed. “I don’t know how much help I’m going to be against someone even better than you, but…I’ll find a way.”

“Sorry again about all of this, MC,” Seven piped up in your direction. “Say, why haven’t you said anything in the chatroom?”

“What do you mean?” You asked.

Vanderwood coughed. “Ah, um, yes, I got your things yesterday. I forgot, sorry.” He pulled the cracked phone out of his pocket and waved it towards you. “The rest is in the trunk.”

You were stunned, but came forward to gently take it out of his hands. “You had it…this whole time?”

Seven laughed, but it became a cough as Vanderwood glared at him. “I said sorry already,” he huffed. You opened it, it was fully charged – the familiar chatroom icon in plain sight. “Thank you, Vandy,” you smiled, looking back at him.

“Vandy?” Seven cooed, a bigger grin than before.

Vanderwood plopped down on the couch, Seven backed off. “Work. Now. Listen, I’ll start looking over things with this hacker, but if we don’t decode _actual work_ files before the deadline, you know what happens.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Seven said with a salute. But his cheerful demeanor was clearly exhausted. His expression returned to flatness, his eyes consumed by his screen. You decided to leave them to their work, returning to the quietness of Vanderwood’s room. You lay on the bed, excited and nervous to read all your missed chats. You looked at the missed private messages, deciding to start there first. Zen’s amount was at the top by a wide margin.

**Zen  
** Hey honey! Heard you were leaving Seven’s place, hope you’re doing well. If you feel better, you can call me at any time. I’ll pick up, no matter what!

**Zen  
** I guess you’re still not feeling well, which makes sense considering what happened…if you want to talk about it, I’m always here for you. Take your time.

**Zen  
** Miss you! Exhausted from rehearsals, think I landed a great, new part with a famous actress! May switch productions. Can’t wait to tell you about it lol

**Zen  
** Jaehee said she spoke with you today, I guess you don’t have your phone so you didn’t have my number :( Glad to hear you’re doing well.

**Zen  
** Just letting you know I’m worried about you…<3

**Zen  
** Definitely got the part, I’m overjoyed but really nervous. Ahhh, apparently it’s a singer named Echo Girl. Have you heard of her?

**Zen  
** Is it true you’re going to Jumin’s??? You’re going to hate it there, I’m sure he’s super boring. I feel bad for you!

**Zen  
** I guess it’s better you hung out with Yoosung than Jumin but man…I can’t help but feel a little jealous, lol. I feel like you’ve been able to talk with everyone except me…Hope you know how much I care, too!

 

**Yoosung  
** asdhviooasi-90

**Yoosung  
** Sorry, I didn’t mean to type that last message. How are you? I’m just so glad you’re alive…Call me if you can!

**Yoosung  
** I typed up some tips from my time with Rika to help you be a party coordinator. I’ll send them to you later! If you still want to be party coordinator, I mean. I’ll understand either way. Make sure you’re eating!

**Yoosung  
** Have you heard about Zen’s new role??? It’s Echo Girl!! That’s crazy!!

**Yoosung  
** Was super fun hanging out with you today, I really really like you. I hope you don’t think I’m too cheesy, even my LOLOL friends keep asking about you lololol

 

**Jumin  
** If you need anything, notify me or Assistant Kang.

**Jumin  
** I was pleased to hear from Assistant Kang that you are doing well. As always, as an RFA member, we are here to assist you.

**Jumin  
** I’m curious as to why you wished to stay with Yoosung today. Hopefully we have time to discuss it in the car.

**Jumin  
** It was enjoyable meeting you today, I look forward to seeing you again at the party.

 

**Jaehee  
** Luciel said you’re safe, but I haven’t heard from you…I’m worried.

**Jaehee  
** I’m so happy you called me, I’ve been so anxious. I hope we talk more often. If you need anything, I’m always a message away.

**Jaehee  
** Zen got a new role! : ) The party will be so nice.

 

Your chest was light. The RFA really cared about your wellbeing. Of course everyone wanted the party to be a success, but you were alive and well, and that’s what mattered. You responded to each of their messages, letting them know you had your phone back and you looked forward to participating in chats again. You thumbed back to the email function, seeing the unread and unanswered emails from potential party guests. You went to work, researching and finding the best ways to get them to attend, trying to be polite as possible. Even if the cracked phone screen scratched your finger sometimes, you smiled and forgot about everything else but the success of the RFA party.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

“MC? You’re going to mess up your sleep schedule.”

Your eyes fluttered open, your phone still in hand with the screen off. You started to panic, then relaxed when you saw it was plugged into the charger. You definitely weren’t going to make that mistake again.

You were still in high spirits, but as you locked eyes with Vanderwood, reality came crashing back. His eyes with a slightly red glow made it obvious he had been staring at his computer screen for hours. You clicked your phone on to check the time, it was late afternoon. You must have fallen asleep, but not for too long.

“I’ll be alright,” you yawned.

You wondered why he was even in the room. “Did Seven leave?”

Vanderwood nodded. His mouth opened for a moment to say something, then tightened.

“You were supposed to go with him, you know. But you were both too out of it. So maybe tomorrow.”

“I told you I’m not leaving,” you huffed. You slid off the bed, leaving your phone. “What’s your problem?”

Vanderwood put his hands on his hips, eyebrows furrowing. You mimicked him, getting upset yourself.

Now that you had time to think, you felt more comfortable confronting him. “You ask me to stay with you, then take it back, and try to kick me out the very next day!”

“That’s _not_ what happened,” he scoffed.

“You said ‘of course you can’t stay here’! How am I supposed to take that?”

“You didn’t say you even wanted to stay when I first asked!”

“Well I’ve said it a hundred times now. I was shocked! And now you keep avoiding the question when I ask if you…” You hesitated. This again. This dreaded question.

“ _Yeeeees_?”

His patronizing tone annoyed you enough to finish your thought. “When I ask if you like me, you won’t take it seriously, you won’t answer me!” Your head throbbed as you tried to hold back a tear that threatened to escape. You felt so vulnerable.

“I already said ‘of course’! That’s not good enough for you?”

Your hands fell – more like slid out from under you.

“What?”

A red tinge dusted his cheeks as he glared down at you, then broke away.

“Whatever, I need to clean,” he grumbled, fast-walking out the room and back towards the kitchen. You hesitated a moment, then slowly stumbled after him. What? What? You thought hearing something like that would make you feel better, more light-hearted. Instead, you found the same sensation of panic thumping in your chest.

Vanderwood stood in the kitchen, shoving his hands into cleaning gloves. He struggled – one glove dropping, getting picked up, and then dropping again. He audibly sighed. He glanced when you entered his field-of-view, then left you to speak with his back. You had gone after him, but your words were even further.

Your mouth felt dry, you licked your lips.

“Vandy?”

He didn’t answer, back and forth between the table as he tossed empty dishes into the sink.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” you pleaded, frozen in place.

He dropped a small bowl, it shattered instantly all across the small, kitchen floor.

“Shit,” he mumbled. He hurried to reach around the back of his refrigerator and pull out a dust pan and broom. He paused to face you, “I’m not mad,” before starting to sweep the pieces.

“But you seem upset with me, you’ve been quiet since last night.”

He fumbled with the handle, catching it before it fell. He decided to stand tall, pausing.

“I am not upset with you, I just feel like an idiot. So can you please just let me be an idiot, please?”

“Why would you feel that way?” You were shocked he was saying such negative things about himself, he seemed genuinely distraught.

He scoffed. “Because it’s only been a few days! I shouldn’t feel this way, and of course you don’t feel the same. I’ve made things uncomfortable here. So,” he said, stamping the broom once, “Don’t feel obligated to stay, no hard feelings.” His voice had become small. Vanderwood’s eyes returned to the floor as he continued sweeping.

“Vandy…”

You walked forward onto the floor, ignoring Vanderwood’s panicked expression and the pricks of bowl that sunk into your soles. “Stop! What are you doing, come on,” he said, putting down the broom quickly. “Don’t hurt yourself please, it’s more work.”

You embraced him, silently. He responded with a tighter grip, lifting you off the floor and carrying you into the living room. You moved your hands higher – around his neck and squeezed. He stopped walking and hunched over – you glanced to see he was leaning over the couch, waiting for you to fall. You smiled, you’ve done this before. You readjusted your arms and held on even more securely. Vanderwood said nothing, waiting. You wondered if he’d do whatever martial arts move he did before that instantly separated your arms.

“I do feel the same,” you finally admitted, burying your face into his curls. You felt some movement, then he went still again. You didn’t know what to do here. With your face so close, you could hear him whisper his words.

“You didn’t say that before.”

You unraveled your arms and let yourself plop down to the cushions. Vanderwood remained hunched over, his body language making him seem uncomfortable.

You reached for his hand, brushing your fingertips softly against his. “I’m sorry I hesitated, I was just surprised. Although…I did say I liked you before.” His eyes searched in yours, he slowly lowered himself on the edge of the couch beside you.

“When you said I might get tortured if I start liking you,” you clarified. “And I said I did. But you thought I meant it as just a friend.” You felt comfortable with your feelings and with admitting them the more you spoke. Were you saying too much?

He gently took your hands in his. “Um…No, I didn’t actually.”

You started to sit up. “What?”

He hesitated, glancing away for just a moment as he gripped your hand tighter. “I did know what you meant, I just…played it off. I was nervous.” He pulled your hand to rest on his chest. “I’m sorry, you must’ve felt awkward. I just wasn’t sure myself, so…”

You kissed him.  You didn’t need to hear any more. He quickly reciprocated, a gentle laugh pulling your lips apart after. His eyes shone, deep pools of what could only be affection as he rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand.

You finally felt it, a gentle lightness lifting your heart that painted butterflies in your stomach. “Vandy…” You leaned your head into his shoulder. He let go of your hand and embraced you, pulling you into him. “I didn’t know if you meant it,” he sighed, “And when you hesitated I thought that confirmed it, or maybe you took it back. I don’t know. I think I was just making excuses.”

“Excuses?” You felt his hand start to play with your hair, gently stroking you.

“I was looking for a reason to let you go,” he said, voice seeming to choke. He hesitated for a moment after the crack to continue, “When Seven called, despite the situation, I was relieved. I must sound strange, right?” He tightened his arms around you, as if here in his arms was the only way you could stay.

“No…” You closed your eyes, letting his strokes lull you into a whelming sense of calm. You could start to feel the weight of both of your bodies and the warmth between them.

“No?”

“You can’t have friends, having a girlfriend is worse. I understand why you’d hesitate.”

“Yes…” You felt his chest heave out a sigh. “I’ve been thinking so much about how this could work. I know I shouldn’t have, I’m getting ahead of myself. I just like to plan things, I don’t want to get you killed, I just—“

“Vanderwood, it’s alright.”

“It’s not. You don’t understand how painful it will be to be with me. I’m not…normal.”

You moved your head to look up at him, resting your chin on his chest now. “Well how would it work then?”

His cheeks seemed to be turning colors. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing. Just not now.”

You smiled and sat up, off of his chest. “Tell me,” you giggled. Vanderwood’s expression dipped into a pout. It was the cutest thing you’d ever seen. Stars lit in your eyes.

“Please? Tell me?” The pitch in your voice got higher, you were feeling genuinely excited. Was this a dream? He scoffed. “Why are you insisting so much?”

_Because you have the cutest pout in the world._

“I want to be with you, Vandy. So,” you re-positioned yourself, moving out of his hold and giving him room to fully sit beside you on the couch, “Tell me what I have to do so that can happen.”

Vanderwood sat back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. “MC…No, not yet. I’m not being fair. I don’t want you to jump into something when I haven’t even given you all the information.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder and pat the back of his hand. “Like your job?”

“It’s more than that. I haven’t really told you anything about myself. What if you stay here and you find out you don’t like me as much as you thought?”

“We can take it slow,” you offered.

“That’s the thing…My life doesn’t really operate on slow. To make this work, you would have to be all-in or nothing. I can’t ask that of you so soon. Maybe after all of this is over…”

Your woes came crashing back. You clenched his hand and gently tugged it so he would look at you again.

“Wait, um, we didn’t get to talk yesterday. About what happened.”

“Right, you wanted to talk about your day with Yoosung. It’s related to us?”

“It could be, since we’re both involved.”

He sat up straighter, his expression turning serious as he waited for you to continue.

“I don’t think Seven told you everything.”

“How so?”

You took a deep breath and started from the very beginning – from before you ever picked up that lost phone or went into the apartment. No, you started with what basics you knew about Seven, V, Rika, and Yoosung. And how at some point, a bomb was installed knowingly in Rika’s apartment.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

“Are you going to tell Seven?” You gasped as you laid in Vanderwood’s bed, his hand under your shirt and fondling your breasts. He sat up with his laptop in his lap, tapping and typing with one hand. Occasionally, a backspace, but only occasionally.

He was deep in thought, researching something he wouldn’t specify related to the things you told him. “Eventually,” he finally muttered. “Hm?” You asked, hoping he’d elaborate.

“I’ll have to talk to him…eventually.” _Tap_. “I’ll probably be helping him.” _Click_. “What a mess he’s made.” His fingers were rougher against your chest now as he tried to talk and type at the same time. It was making you squirm.

“But I can’t have your life in danger because he’s too scared to ask fo--,” he paused everything, including his hand, when he heard you groan. His hand had been too rough. “Ah, sorry. Did I hurt you?” He closed and shoved the laptop under the pillow before turning to lay on his side with you. He reached an arm over your waist, pushing the two of you closer. You smiled as you felt his breath brush you, small, warm gusts of air that confirmed he was well, alive, and here with you. Vanderwood wasn’t smiling, but he looked calm as his eyes met yours.

“Tell me something about yourself, Vanderwood.”

He frowned, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

“I don’t like talking about myself, the only interesting thing about me is my job and I hate my job,” he said, with a dry laugh.

“This is a good start, go on,” you grinned, kissing his forehead back. He returned the smile, circling his fingers along your waist.

“W-well. I don’t actually like the name Vanderwood either, it was just the better assignment of my options when I first joined. I, um, I actually always wanted the name…Stark?”

“Stark…” You mouthed out. Hm. “Do you want me to call you Stark from now on?”

He shook his head before you even finished your sentence. “No, it’s…it’s our secret. If I ever get out of here, I want to legally change it first. It’s my freedom name, no one should know about it so it’s harder for me to be followed.”

You brushed one of his loose strands back with your index finger. “I don’t want to call you a name you don’t like…what if I just call you Stark when we’re alone, like this?”

He bit his cheek, silent as he contemplated the option.

“Sometimes is…fine. It’s just if it becomes normal, you might accidentally say it in public. And besides, it’s not so bad anymore.”

“Oh?”

He kissed the bridge of your nose. “I don’t hate it when you say it.”

You brushed your lips against his, seeking a kiss in your close proximity. He obliged, his own lips parting to take in yours. This time, he tastes of home. You close your eyes, taking him in.

His hand moved from circling your waist to gently folding around your thigh. You felt his thumb press into your skin as he peppered your lips with kisses. “I want to know everything about you,” he mumbled. “I don’t want to have to research it,” he breathed out, hand getting tighter as it felt around your thigh. Your hand stroked his hair, fingers finding themselves lost in his curly world. “Can I…” He pulled his lips away from yours. “Can I show you how much I like you?”

“Yes,” you whispered, your heart beat getting louder in your ears as you locked lips with him again. You felt his lips curl in a smile as he pressed harder against you, sucking the air out of your atmosphere. His hand traveled upwards from your thigh, under the fabric of your shirt, enjoying the search of your skin before landing on your breast. “MC…” he said, his words almost like a whine, desperate as they landed on your lips. His hand started slow, squeezing over and over, two fingers sandwiching and gently tugging at your nipple. It felt good, pulsing sensations stretching across your chest. “Vandy,” you sighed. He groaned into your mouth. “God, how can I hate that name when you say it like that?”

He shifted, one leg sliding over you until part of his body was on-top, not breaking the kissing. Now, a second hand slid under your shirt to grope the second breast, both moving in sync to pleasure you. You could already feel the tightness in his pants rubbing against your bare leg. He slid his mouth down your neck, leaving parting gifts of tiny kisses the entire way down to your chest. He moved fully on top of you now, removing his hands from under your shirt and linking them with yours. Your laced fingers felt hot with his own. Gently, his lips tugged at the skin of your neck, and he pressed his tongue into any crevice he could find. You squirmed under his touch, head moving side to side as he found new places to taste in your sensitive area.

Vanderwood pulled his arms back, pulling you to sit upright. He parted ways with your now sweaty hands and tugged at your sleeves, encouraging you to lift your arms up. He helped pull the shirt off and began to shove it off the bed before pausing. He picked it back up and peered down at it for a moment, before a smirk graced his face. “What?” You asked, curious. He began twisting the shirt before meeting your eyes, silent. Done with the twist, he pulled the shirt around your face, covering your eyes. “Is this ok?” He asked, pausing before he made a knot. You nodded and let the darkness overcome you. You felt him tie it securely around the back of your head and guide you to lay back down.

“Let me know if it’s too tight, I know how frail you are,” he teased, whispering in your ear.

“Yeah, yeah…”

You felt his hands explore your body – touching your stomach, the inside of your legs, caressing all of the lower parts of your skin until you felt his lips upon you. They kissed the backside of your knee, him lifting your leg just slightly for access. Then, they sucked on the tips of your toes – one by one, Vanderwood’s tongue went down the line, agonizingly slow. You felt him move across the bed, his tongue now dragging down starting from your neck, slowly, carefully until he was at your crotch.

“You know,” you heard him say, his breath hot against your own need, “When I fell on you in that bathtub, I was kind of thankful.” A single lick of his tongue across your entrance made you shiver. “It was hard not to just kiss you then, I almost went for it.” You tried to stay still, the teasing beginning to get to you. “So many times I had to force myself away from you, just so I wouldn’t lose myself…”

He kissed to the left. “To your skin.”

To the right. “Your smile.”

To the top. “Your cute, sexy laugh.”

Licking up from the bottom. “Your delicious taste.”

“Van…” You whined.

You felt his lips circle your clit, tongue out and massaging your most sensitive area. It was only a moment before his hands were spreading your legs apart, as you threatened to close him off. You heard some movement, then felt his elbow poking into your right leg. Then, a finger helping him massage you. You grunted, the pleasure intensifying as he felt you two different ways. The finger now smoothed over your clit back and forth as his tongue went lower, easing in and out of your entrance.

“Vand-y,” you moaned out. He continued doing this, sometimes alternating, before his finger began easing into you. “A-ah.”

“You sound so cute,” he sighed.

Another finger joined the first, both reaching the same distance before pushing in further, together. One leg slid, Vanderwood gripped you tighter. His tongue picked up speed as his fingers slipped in and out, you felt feel yourself dripping against him.

“It’s OK if it feels good, you can relax,” he chuckled. You tried, but it only made it feel even more intense. “Hngh,” you moaned, arms restless as they felt around the bed, balling up fabric everywhere they went. “Do you like it fast or slow?” He asked.

Both felt incredible.

“U-um, both feel good…?”

He paused, kissing your entrance one more time. “Well, I haven’t even gone fast yet.”

“W-what?”

The fingers picked up the pace to what they were before, then slightly curled into you. You gasped, Vanderwood continued, slipping almost all the way out before shoving themselves to his knuckle. “Oh my god,” you groaned. He was right, this was _much_ faster. Agonizing as it already was, you didn’t prepare for his lips pressing themselves around your clit and sucking it. You screamed out.

“You’re so loud now, babe,” he whispered into you. You whimpered, it was the first time he gave you such a pet name.

He slowed the pace again as you felt your mind escaping you. You felt the bed move again and his lips brush by your ear. “MC?”

“Y-yeah?”

“I want to make love to you. Do you want to?”

You bit your lip and nodded. You felt his fingers slowly exit you, the wetness leaking across your torso as his hand traveled upwards to your head. He loosened the shirt around your head and pulled it down so you could see again. Vanderwood stared down at you. He kissed your forehead, lingering there for a moment. “You’ve been loud,” he tutted, now readjusting the shirt to go around your mouth. “If you’re good, I’ll let you moan for me.” A devilish grin met the corners of his face, but you didn’t protest as he tied it back. He quickly stripped off his clothes, throwing them on the floor. You watched as his muscles bulged with every movement. He began sliding down you, but paused when you two were face-to-face.

“I love you.” Your eyes went wide, but you could say nothing back for now.

He slipped out of the bed, disappearing into the closet for a moment before returning with a strip of condoms. He tore one off and opened it with his mouth. Vanderwood cracked his neck and stretched as he climbed back over you on the bed. You clumsily reached to touch over his upper body, tracing the crevices and scars that were becoming so familiar now. He slipped on the condom effortlessly, then headed back down to taste more of you. You moaned out a muffled sigh.

Vanderwood climbed back over you, sliding his length against you, covering it in the sticky substance leaking out of you. You closed your eyes for a few seconds as it rubbed against your clit. “Nghh,” was all that escaped the fabric around your mouth. Your hands clenched on his biceps. He kissed your nose. “Are you ready?” You responded with a nod.

He began lining up with you, measuring your facial expressions to see if he had it correctly. Satisfied, his hands linked with yours against the bed as he started to push in. He leaned in more, kissing around your face. “If anything is wrong, just tap and I’ll stop, OK?” You nodded again, grunting as you felt the wide member making its way into you. The tip began spreading you open, you closed your eyes and tried to relax. You felt Vanderwood shake above you, his hand squeezing a little harder around yours.

“God,” you heard him whisper out. The tip went in, you gasped. “I’ll be gentle,” he grunted, the rest of him easily and slowly pushing in. He pulled out until just the tip was left, then pushed back in. This repeated a few more times, each time going a little deeper than the last. “MC,” he moaned, head falling onto your cheek. “You’re so tight,” he said with a small laugh at the end.

“You know, I’ve never actually had a girlfriend before?” _Pant._

“And I’m going to do.” _Thrust._

“Anything I have to do to keep you.” _Thrust._

“I don’t care about.” _Pant. Thrust._

“The rules or anything I just.” _Groan._

“Want to be free.” _Thrust._

“With you.” _Thrust. Pant._

“I love you.” _Thrust. Groan._

“So much.” _Pant._

He went faster, the entirety of his length slipping in and nearly all the way out. Your legs felt numb, useless against his feverous thrusting and his sweet hurts. Vanderwood suddenly stopped, your eyes opened. He quickly tore the shirt from around your mouth. “Are you crying? Sorry, did I hurt you? Was I too rough?” You shook your head.

“N-no, sorry, please keep going. I’m just so happy.” He wiped the single tear you hadn’t noticed from your right eye and smiled.

“I love you too,” you sighed. He kissed your lips, you pulled him in with your hands. He nuzzled his head into your shoulder for a moment, then returned to his former position and began moving again.

“MC,” he said, eyes locked down on you. You returned the gaze, “Vandy…”

He picked back up the fast speed, his strength shaking the whole bed. “You’re so beautiful,” he groaned out, one hand now giving him support on the bed and the other slightly lifting your leg for better access. You wanted to respond, but all you could do was moan out as you flopped around under him.

You were getting to your limit, and perhaps he was too with the way his arm was shaking. “I’m going to cum soon,” he muttered. “I’m almost there,” you sighed. He nodded, keeping his same pace, audibly gasping for air in-between moans. You felt him grip your leg tighter and lift it even higher. You felt at his mercy.

“Star-k,” you moaned.

Vanderwood cried out loud, going faster for a moment before beginning to slow.

“Fuck, fuck,” he moaned, looking away from you and to the ceiling.

“Dammit…MC?”

You already knew what he was going to say.

“I-I came…I’m sorry. Shit. I messed up.”

His face was red, you couldn’t help but smile.

“D-don’t laugh,” he sighed, gently letting your leg back down.

“It’s your fault!” He grumbled, turning his head back towards you. “I didn’t think that would have such an effect on me…but congratulations, it did. We can’t…you can’t…you can’t say that name when we’re…unless you _want_ me to…ugh.” His hands dragged down his embarrassed face.

“I’m sorry, I won’t,” you giggled. You were _definitely_ using that name again.

His expression moved into a pout, leaning over you to rest his head against your chest. You hugged him, kissing his messy hair. It was a good day.

“I love you,” you mumbled into the strands that tickled your lips.

“I love you, too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're coMINGGGGGGG for YOUUUUUU.
> 
> I hope this chapter isn't too slow for anyone, well I guess the only fast one is Vanderwood.


	7. Day 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderwood has some unconventional ways of dealing with a new relationship, Zen is Zen, and the secrets of the mysterious Mint Eye continue to spill out.

“Are you sure? There’s still time to turn back, I don’t want to force this on you. We can talk more about it?”

You shook your head, finishing your signature as neat as possible. “Nope,” you grinned, “If this is what’s safer and I get to be with you, then I have no regrets.” You laid in bed with Vanderwood, using his chest to prop up the binder and paper you were writing on.

“…Alright,” Vanderwood sighed. You noticed the small smile on his lips but you didn’t comment on it, knowing he would feel embarrassed. Of course, there was no guarantee you wouldn’t bring it up later.

“This afternoon is a good time, apparently on slow days it could take only a few minutes to become official,” he continued. “I’ll probably populate the very few searches on me with mentions of you to connect us so it appears more…legitimate. Of course, if people dig any basic records on me they can find it. But this way, it’s even more obviously public.”

You nodded. You weren’t sure if Vanderwood was joking or not when he first told you the plan – marry him. _No, really_ , he said. If other hackers or agents felt that he was hiding you, your life would be an easy, huge target. If you were publically married, it would actually have the opposite effect – they would assume you had some sort of arrangement with Vanderwood and it wasn’t about love at all. After all, what kind of idiot would be an underground agent and expose their lover to the world to be killed at any time? It was a deep mind game you hadn’t considered. Vanderwood had also admitted shyly that considering the length of time you’d known each other, it was easy to believe you two didn’t actually fall in-love. Your previous addresses and affiliations didn’t match up whatsoever for any hacker worth their salt to believe you two were real lovers.

Vanderwood tucked the marriage certificate in the binder when you finished. It was a first step to your commitment to figuring out this relationship with him, and you were happy. He put it on the dresser before turning to wrap his warm and hard arms around you. He was fully dressed from completing early morning errands, but you were still in your pajamas. You wondered what would change when you officially became Mrs. Vanderwood. Your family and friends would hate you for a sudden marriage with no wedding or approval, but it was something they’d have to accept when you finally got into contact with them. Vanderwood had even brought your old, completely burned and smashed phone from the car, but you knew you wouldn’t bother with it for a while. You wanted to check so see if you could recover anything like family contacts from the SIM card, but now in his arms, you couldn’t care less.

You sighed, thinking of the next phase of Vanderwood’s plan – an outrageous amount of exercise and training. He needed you to be able to keep up or protect yourself if the need ever arose, but it would be an entire lifestyle change. You had specific dreams, you had vague dreams, but none of them included knowing elite hacking and being some sort of expert in taekwondo.

“It’s going to be alright,” Vanderwood said, kissing your forehead. “I can feel you tense, relax. I don’t want you in the field with me, I promise I’m not trying to change you. I just want you to know some basics to protect yourself. Alright?”

You sighed, letting your body feel more at ease. “Sorry, OK.”

“Li-ke,” Vanderwood said with a grin and a peck, “Not opening the door without looking or going into complete strangers’ homes.”

You scoffed, then laughed. “Fair enough.”

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

“No!”

Zen sat up in a cold sweat, sheets falling down his chest while the fabric of his pillow puffed out towards his back, sticky and wet from the back of his neck. His silver hair cascaded loosely down his face and arms. He wiped the sweat from his brow and shook his head roughly to remove the strands from his eyes.

He had a dream about you – and not just any dream, one of _those_.

He had to call you, had to warn you, had to do _something_ to stop whatever the Hell that was. His hand paused when it touched the cool of his phone, then drew away. There had to be another way. Maybe he didn’t have the full picture – but what, _what_ could _possibly_ explain the sight of Seven choking you on the floor? Maybe you both were acting? But it seemed so real. You never spoke about being an actor, and Seven wouldn’t have the time for something so incredulous when he was deep in dealing with the hacker. Cursing himself, he called the person he wanted to the least.

It rang only once before picking up.

“Hello? Jumin Han speaking.”

Zen gritted his teeth, hearing the humor in his tone. _Duh_ – of course it was Jumin Han!

“Yes, yes, quit it. I need to talk about something.”

“Have you finally reconsidered my modeling offer?”

“No!”

“Then I’m not sure how I can help you.”

“What? Just listen! You met up with her – can you tell me the general area MC is staying? It’s really important.”

“You should speak with Luciel if it’s about MC’s whereabouts. Or V, if you’ve managed to contact him.”

Even Zen knew, despite the calm tone of his voice, that Jumin was still frustrated with V’s disappearance. He sighed. “I probably won’t be able to get in-touch with V, and I actually can’t talk to Seven right now about this. He can’t know.”

“Interesting.”

Zen’s fist balled in his sheets while the other hand moved a strand of hair out of his face. Where did that hair tie go? He began looking around the bed, lifting up pillows and sheets as he continued to speak.

“I know you don’t believe in my prophetic dreams but, for once, can you just help me? This is really important to me, you jerk.”

“Perhaps I may be convinced if I had a favor returned.”

Zen paused. No. No way. “Jumin…” He hissed. “Yes, that is my name,” Jumin merrily responded. Zen’s head rolled back, feeling utterly defeated. But when it came down to it, Zen would always be willing to swallow his pride to protect a friend. His hand finally landed on the small, silver band, and he slipped it from out under his sheets. Stretching it between his two fingers, he finally gave in. “Fine, I’ll do your stupid modeling thing.”

“Excellent, then I shall send for Driver Kim. Of course, that is if you would like to go to the original pick-up location where we retrieved MC.”

“…Yeah, sounds good. And you won’t tell Seven?”

“As per our verbal agreement, I will not mention it for now. Let me know if I can assist you in any other way. Of course, that will require more favo--,” the phone clicked off. Zen blinked twice. Oops. He didn’t mean to hang up on Jumin, but God if he wasn’t annoying. He smirked, sure that Jumin would feel just as annoyed. He hopped out of bed and headed to the shower quickly. He had somewhere to be, and he only hoped he wouldn’t be too late. Once close enough, he’d contact you to meet with him and try to diffuse whatever the situation is that would likely go down today.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

“Who’s Gally?” You asked, feeling confident in your own nosiness.

Vanderwood slipped on his shirt and you stood before him, beginning to help him button. Lightly diverging from his usual wear for today, it was a royal purple dress shirt with golden buttons going down the middle and on the cuffs. Hanging unfastened around his neck, a golden tie with a purple clip. _Handsome._

He scoffed as his answer.

“Will you tell me if I’m your wife?” You teased, eyeing his reaction.

“Why do you care? You’re not supposed to be involved, remember?” He said, trying to be stiff but failing at it as the red tinge of his cheeks began to betray him.

“I _am_ involved. Well I know he put a gun to my head,” you continue. It meant to come out more playful, but the word ‘gun’ stuck in your throat. It wasn’t really a joke, was it? Gally tried to kill you, that was the man whose teeth Vanderwood knocked out according to Seven.

Vanderwood’s hands placed themselves over yours, preventing you from buttoning the last few remaining. “Hey…You won’t have to worry about Gally anymore. I promise. What I did to him was a warning, and he knows it. Right now, the only concern is the hacker.” His words had conviction, you believed him.

“But didn’t he try to kill you?”

“Yes.”

You cocked your head to the side, wondering if he’d elaborate. When he didn’t, you cleared your throat. “But you weren’t allowed to kill him?”

“I could’ve, it would just be messy. He’s estranged family of my current…client, I guess is an easier term.” You wanted to ask about the others you didn’t see that night – were they alive, too? You held your tongue for now, afraid of the answer as both seemed bad for him.

Vanderwood’s hands let go of yours to fasten his tie, you finished the last of his buttons. “You look nice, as always.” He took your hands once more in his, thumbing over your knuckles, before planting a dry kiss on them.

“Please, don’t die or anything while I finish up today,” he said.

“Are you going to tell me that every time you leave?”

“If it means you’re here and well when I get back? Then yes, every day for the rest of my life.”

Your breath seemed to hiccup, hesitating all on its own. You weren’t sure if he intended the statement thoughtful of the marriage. It was a marriage of convenience, but your fluttering heart felt, for just a moment, it was more than real.

_I’m getting married to a guy I just met, this is definitely in the top five strange things I’ve ever done._

“I’m off, then. Don’t leave the apartment, not even if it’s Mr. or Mrs. Ryong.”

You failed to hide your smirk, but still straightened your back. “Of course, Mr. Vanderwood.” He finally let go, returning a soft smile of his own, before slinging his coat over his shoulder. You followed him to the door, where his demeanor changed once more. Agent Vanderwood, silent and focused, didn’t look back at you as he exited the apartment towards the elevators. Your eyes lingered on his disappearing silhouette for just a moment more before finally shutting and locking the door back.

And it was quiet.

You hadn’t planned out your day – confined to the clean insides of what might be your future home, you figured it should be a little more familiar. You looked around the living room walls, wondering if it might look more homely with some framed pictures. Would Vanderwood like something with stars or animal prints? Obviously something not too busy. The kitchen was small enough as it was, so maybe nothing there. You opened the cupboards one by one, inspecting the plates and any dry food that was around. Most of them were empty. The only dry food you found were instant meals that advertised their low sodium levels or health benefits. There were two sets of plates, the nice ones he had used in the breakfast for you, and worn down plain ones. You sighed. He really didn’t have guests, there were hardly enough dishes just for the two of you. Maybe you could cook something for you, Vanderwood, and Seven? That would be nice.

_Beep._

It was your phone from far away. You smiled. Now that it was back, you would be able to change that ringtone. What would you do now with the other two phones? Your original was a useless, destroyed memento but the backup had its use. You would have to hide it somewhere just in case you lost the main – which honestly also needed a screen replacement.

You strolled back to the bedroom, eyeing the walls you passed and imagining fancy art decorations. How did Vanderwood feel about photos of himself? Would you two be able to frame a couples’ photo? No, a marriage photo? Even if not, part of you wanted pictures of Vanderwood in his nice outfits – for personal use. Images began swarming of children, pets, and petty married couples arguments. No, no, too much.

You pushed the thoughts away as you picked up your phone to check the text message. It was from Seven. But the screen looked different. It seemed to flutter for a second as if it glitched. The background was far darker than normal. But there it was:

 **Seven:** Not safe, meet me outside.

The quiet, warm bedroom that housed the memory of Vanderwood first telling you he loved you suddenly seemed barren. Chilled fingers placed the phone back on the bed, and without thinking you were dressing yourself in the first things you found – a leopard print dress shirt with triangular gold buttons and black slacks with tiny, white squares lining their belt loop. If you trained, maybe you wouldn’t have to do this. Maybe you would be able to protect yourself for even an hour without Vanderwood at your side. You hated this back and forth between safety and alarm, this burden you were surely placing on Seven and Vanderwood who had other things to worry about.

Frustrated, you snatched the phone charger out of the wall and threw it in your pocket along with the phone. You grabbed your bag, still mostly packed from your time with Yoosung and rushed to the door. Ever learning, you peeked out of the peephole first. Clear, you unlocked the door and shivered from the cool air. But you didn’t care enough to return inside and find a coat. You locked it from the inside and shut it back before taking off down the stairs, forgoing the elevator. You looked around for one of Seven’s cars as you went – but no cars waited for you outside the building, nor any Ryongs this time. The garage, maybe?

It was the next likely thing. You headed towards the closed garage, trying to look much braver than you felt exposed outside with an unnamed threat on the loose. You opened the door and saw him – Seven, in a black suit, waiting beside a black car with tinted windows you didn’t recognize. You jogged over and he smiled, reaching over to open the door for you before returning to the driver’s seat.

You thanked him and slid in, closing the door back and hugging your bag. He was silent as he quickly clicked a button on his phone, causing the garage to open for him. Seven smoothly drove out, closing the garage back the same way. He must’ve hacked it. You supposed it was easy for someone like Seven. He texted something on the small, black phone as he waited at the edge of the apartment complex. Satisfied, he placed it in his suit pocket and joined the road.

“Nice suit,” you said, wondering why he didn’t greet you. It wasn’t like him to be so quiet – or neat, for that matter. “For a mission?”

“Uh, yes,” he answered, after a moment’s hesitation.

“It looks nice on you, you should wear suits more often,” you smiled. He pursed his lips, but said nothing.

“So where are we going to hide out?”

“Away from the city.” There was an edge to his pronunciation you weren’t used to.

“Are you alright, Seven? Well, alright as you can be for the situation, I mean.”

“Of course I am,” he said. His eyes darted over to you, catching your gaze, and he gave a small smile.

You nodded and leaned against the door, staring out at the window as you headed towards the mountains. The car smelled of flowers, and was clean despite being a little dusty.

“Say, is this car from your mission too? Is it OK that we have it?”

“I’ve taken care of everything, there’s no need for questions.”

You shifted in place. Clearly, Seven wasn’t in the mood for things that reminded him of his mission. You changed the subject.

“I guess we haven’t been able to talk much, but I really appreciate you taking care of me that first day.” You wanted to keep it upbeat, but knowing Seven planted the bomb still sat heavy on your mind. You wanted to question him more, not less.

“Oh, have you heard from V?”

Seven sighed audibly. “Why? V’s never around, but you’re asking for him? Is he that important?”

“Are you upset with him?”

He hesitated, one hand parting with the wheel to scratch at his head. “No?”

“You’re not sure?”

“Why are--,” his voice went to a higher pitch, then he stopped. He grumbled something and scratched his head again, feverishly. “Radio?” He inclined loudly, turning it on without waiting for your answer.

It buzzed to life, an inaudible voice getting louder as Seven slowly cranked up the volume.

“…Today we talk about some of the most important relationships you can have – siblings!”

He punched it back off, his back straightening and jaw tightening as his hands gripped the wheel. “Hey, that could be fun? If you leave the radio on I’ll stop bothering you?” You mused, this rising tension between the two of you quickly becoming noticeable. Seven balled his fist for a moment, but poked the radio back on with his knuckles anyway.

“…Sometimes your sibling relationship can be the most complicated one. You try to overcome your individual faults and are annoyed with each other as you both grow up together. It’s really your first roommate situation, except with no life experience…”

Seven seethed out a ‘tch’ noise with his teeth, lowering the windows as the boisterous noises of the city quickly began to fade.

The car lulled on and you enjoyed the silence, the radio man jumping between topics and eager listeners giving their own personal experience. You couldn’t remember the last time you heard such a program.

You watched as you both headed towards the outskirts, the thrum of the car and the dry twang of the radio man intertwining into the new background noise. The air was pleasant, warm gusts blowing in and out and causing your hair to tickle your eyes and nose.

_Ring. Ring._

“What is that?” Seven quavered, voice sky-rocketing.

“It’s just Zen,” you smiled, rolling your window back up with a finger push as you answered the call.

“MC? Are you alright?” His tone was smooth yet contrived, as if he had rehearsed it beforehand.

“Yeah, of course. How are you?”

“Fine. I’m in the area, wanted to know if we could meet up?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m sorry Zen, I’m actually out right now. It was too dangerous at the apartment.”

“…Dangerous how?”

“Um, well you’ll have to ask Seven, he – hey!”

The phone was snatched from your grasp, Seven’s face looked pale as he threw it out of his window.

You didn’t bother even trying to reach for it, numb shock settling into your bones. You thought immediately of Vanderwood – how that was your lifeline and your connection to him. You shivered, and took a deep breath. “Seven – what – what the hell, man?”

“It can be traced, sorry,” he muttered, not sounding sorry in the slightest.

“Seven, what is wrong with you? You’re acting weird! Seriously! Traced? The hacker got to it?” You didn’t know if you were shocked or angry. You loved that phone, it was your connection to the RFA and Vanderwood. And now it was gone _again_. Part of you still wasn’t registering it, even though the sight of it disappearing out the window replayed over and over.

He said nothing, one arm reaching for his head again before hovering just out of reach.

“Seven, what’s wrong? Talk to me, you’re scaring me,” you pleaded.

“Everything is _fine_!” He screamed, “Can you shut up? _Shut up!”_ He began coughing, you flinched as he calmed down, his ragged breath seemingly louder than the radio. That’s when you began to notice the exaggerated dips of his eyelids and the hollowness of his cheeks, looks betraying a man who had all the signs of malnourishment and sleep deprivation.

Sympathy.

“Seven, this mission’s taken a lot out of you. Do you want me to drive? Just tell me where to go.” You placed a gentle hand on his leg, feeling it tense up.

“I’m worried about you, you don’t look well.”

His leg relaxed, both hands returned to the wheel. “I’m alright,” he said through gritted teeth. It wasn’t good enough, he clearly wasn’t. “What happened to you? I can nearly see your bones, that’s a drastic change. Like, hospital-level change. I don’t think you should be driving in your condition.”

“My – condition?” He whispered out, followed by an almost sarcastic laugh that trembled from his lips.

“Seven…”

“Stop _calling_ me that,” he whispered out again, the inflection stumbling over every word.

You sighed. “Give me your phone, I’m calling Vanderwood so he knows I’m alright.”

The car jerked around a corner, gliding up an increasing incline as mountains popped into view. You watched his tongue whip across his teeth, but he didn’t respond.

“I’m serious, give me your phone,” you said, your arm stretching outward expectantly.

He cracked his neck, but ignored you once more.

Beginning to fume, your arm sprung for his pocket, stealing the small metal object before one of his preoccupied hands could stop you.

It was completely different than the red one you’d seen him with – black, slim, with a mint strip. Now that it was up close, you noticed how it was nothing like any phone you’d seen before.

“Did you get this for your mission?” You asked, more impressed than surprised.

The car went around another bend and slowed to a halt. Seven’s arms violently shook on the wheel, unsanitary curses spewed from his lips making you flush. He unclicked his seatbelt and looked over at you, an unmistakable venom in his eyes. You unlatched from your own, a flight response ejecting from your heart to your legs. You said nothing, he said nothing, but neither of you needed to. It was clear to you that he was dangerous and you had to leave – _now_.

You fumbled with his phone as you shoved open the door. He hopped out of his own side, hand reaching into his pocket. Could you call 911? _Would_ you on Seven of all people? Something had happened to him – but something awful was about to happen to you. Naturally, the phone was locked. Your sweating finger missed the emergency dial, deciding you couldn’t risk going down the law enforcement rabbit hole, potentially exposing Seven and Vanderwood. But all you had to do was see the avatar of the missed call on Seven’s homescreen to know you made a mistake; a blonde-haired woman, gentle, smiling, and most bizarrely – supposed to be dead.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

In a gray tracksuit, Zen began stretching as Driver Kim pulled off. He had all the perfect looks of a runner – the formation, the façade, and of course, the face. But Zen was on a mission today – feeling absolutely ridiculous that he was trying to do covert ops on (supposedly) one of the greatest hacker minds. Over a _dream_. On its surface, his plan had no basis or logical flow. Zen knew this – but he also knew that he had a gift and curse, despite its lack of explanation. And no, it wasn’t his statuesque face (for now).

He told himself that he was worried about your safety, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous the rest of the RFA men had a chance to meet you. Even _Jaehee_ spoke with you far more on the phone, and she was the one who was the most wary! Ridiculous!

A jogging woman passed him, then returned to his side, her legs never stopping as they alternated on the sidewalk. “O-oh! Hello!” She started, a cross between a smile and shock plastered all over her perspiring face.

Zen smiled, so used to the expression that he wasn’t even sure if it meant anything anymore, or if it was a common default face to make. “Nice weather for a morning jog, miss,” he laughed. “Then I’ll be off!” He waved and started away, leaving her staring and awkwardly waving back. Zen was also used to this – if he talked to everyone who stopped him on the street he wouldn’t make it on-time anywhere.

An upcoming neighborhood on his jog made him slow his pace. This was close enough to begin the call for a meet-up. Even if it tipped off Seven, your would-be attacker, he would surely meet you first. He finally felt nervous. What if you said no? What if there was a reason you hadn’t seen him, and it wasn’t all coincidence? Was this too obvious – he just so happened to be near whatever neighborhood you were in? You weren’t dumb. It would definitely be obvious. Maybe he was thinking too much about it, maybe it wouldn’t matter if he wanted to meet up with you. Maybe you would be happy to see him before the party. After all, he had some guest ideas in mind. It wasn’t like he was asking to meet you alone – a man and woman in your apartment, early. Of course, if you invited him in he definitely wouldn’t say no. Oh God, how long since he’d been alone with a woman? His cheeks flushed.

Shit, was he a monster?

Now or never, anymore thinking and he was going to turn around and go with Plan B – berating and interrogating Seven. He took a deep breath, going over one last time what he would say to you.

_Ring. Ring._

Gusts of air and the distant sound of the radio made it obvious you were in a car. His hopes of meeting you soon shattered instantly, but he continued his act. “It’s just Zen,” he heard you say, the loudest of the chortling wind melting away to reveal your voice.

“MC? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, of course. How are you?” He relaxed a little more, you sounded genuine.

“Fine. I’m in the area, wanted to know if we could meet up?” He knew the answer, but he was fishing – still hoping maybe you were on the way back to the apartment. But who were you speaking to in that car?

“Hm? Oh, I’m sorry Zen, I’m actually out right now. It was too dangerous at the apartment.”

He bit his cheek, so you were leaving. He wanted to ask where, with who, why, and when you were returning. But a sick feeling overcame his own selfishness.

“…Dangerous how?”

“Um, well you’ll have to ask Seven, he – hey!”

A loud shuffling and MC’s whine of protest screeched into his eardrums, but he didn’t pull away. His feet planted on the sidewalk, panic seeping out of his wordless breaths. A moment of silence – and then a crack. The gusts of winds were no more, replaced with the roar of a car driving past and then gone as soon as his mind wrapped around the sound. Zen’s leg wobbled. He was too late.

Rage guided his fingers across the phone screen, but he couldn’t bring himself to hang up the call. He started a new one, putting the previous on hold –

_Pick up. Pick up!_

The sound of V’s voice for the missed call message made him even angrier, but nothing could top what happened next – “We’re sorry, the voicemail inbox of this number is full. Please h—.” He shut the call off, hanging up and returning to the one with you. But of course you weren’t there, just the occasional chirp of a bird and a woosh of wind. But still, he couldn’t hang up. Zen couldn’t let you go, which would end up being the very reason he saved you.

So he dialed V again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And _again_.

Until he finally got an answer.

“Zen? What’s wrong?” stressed Seven.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

Vanderwood felt nothing as the bullet ricocheted off the gun belonging to the man named Gally and through his thumb. He screamed, bending over to clench what was left of the finger, a single bone still visible through the fist. Vanderwood didn’t flinch as the second bullet dug a hole through his skull, a single grunt escaping Gally before he sunk to the floor, still clenching his hand – instantly dead. Business as usual as Vanderwood’s shoes echoed through the compound. For once, no silencer was needed to do the deed. No one would come for the dead man or his associates because no one knew he was here, and no one could hear the gunfire deep in the woods far away from civilians.

As far as he was concerned, this had been one of the easier missions. Vanderwood covered his nose with his free hand, a futile attempt to escape the stench of iron he left in his journey through the compound. His gun pointed forward, his gaze ever surveying the area as he made his way to the computer room. Although all of the targets were neutralized and this whole case seemingly wrapped up, Vanderwood was a cautious man. If an agent let their guard down, they may as well be dead. He’d left many of his own associates behind in buildings just like this, their own excitement of a mission cleared being their undoing.

Unfortunately, that also meant he was going to continue to be sent on these same, dangerous missions. The only positive his caution and prestige ever brought him was being assigned as a partner to infamous Agent 707. As frustrating as he was, at least he was reliable. So reliable that when he received an incoming call, Vanderwood knew it was bad news and answered without hesitation.

“Vanderwood, something came up, I need access to your building – now. I’m sorry, I know I’m abusing you for personal reasons. MC left, she’s missing. Please.”

His breath hitched, gun lowering for just a moment as his feet slowed to a halt.

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck._

He pushed forward, his mission still at the forefront of his mind. He needed to finish this or he’d never have time to concentrate.

“Why…the hell…do you need access?” He hoped Seven wouldn’t be able to notice his quavering words. For once, he didn’t truly want answers.

“I just told you, MC is missing. I need your cameras. I don’t have time to hack them right now.”

“She wouldn’t just _leave_ , asshole!” He spat.

Seven was silent on the other line. Any semblance of composure he had attempted was far gone. Vanderwood kicked open the door to the computer room. The woman he had killed over an hour ago still sat slumped in her chair, staring emptily forward at the door he had entered through. Her gun, an afterthought on the floor, a little too late. He closed the door behind him and jammed in the USB drive.

_Where was his fiancée?_

Seven broke the silence first. “I see you’re finishing up, the data is coming in successfully...Agent, please.”

Vanderwood put Seven on speaker, thumbing through his phone and fulfilling his request.

“I’m giving you access now…What happened?” He checked the tracker, eyes narrowing as he saw the transmission glowing steadily on the outskirts from the other side of the city. He backtracked through time, the phone had been there for nearly 30 minutes now. A sudden stop on an otherwise steady journey straight from the apartment.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll handle it,” Seven sighed. “You have enough on your plate because of me.”

He didn’t think he’d have to do this so soon. Vanderwood’s fear for your wellbeing overrode the intense embarrassment he would’ve otherwise felt.

“She’s my fiancée, of course I’m concerned. I’m coming to see you now, send me your location.”

“…What? Are you trying to protect her? You don’t have to do anything more than you’re already doing, Vanderwood,” his voice full of confusion.

“I _want_ to. Just send me your location. When did you notice she was missing? Let me know what you see on my cameras. Are you in yet, dammit?”

“Vanderwood, calm down.”

“Don’t – I _am_ calm!”

As soon as it left his mouth, echoing around the small room, he knew he wasn’t.

“The data’s finished transmitting,” Seven trailed on.

“Seven, where the hell are you?”

In another situation, Vanderwood would’ve noticed the first and second time when Seven didn’t answer the demand for his whereabouts.

“You’re serious about helping her?” He inquired, doubt still laced throughout his question.

“I’m doing this for her, not you. Now talk.”

Seven’s tone shifted, a weighty sigh coming from the line. “Alright. I’m sending it to you now. I was told by Zen, he knew she was in danger somehow. Says it came to him a dream and he blames me. I can’t talk to him right now, he’s completely furious with me. He was on his way to see her when he called.”

“Understood. Send me his number, I’ll talk to him. Is he still near the apartment?”

“Uhm, I think so...You’re going to actually meet him?  Are you alright with that?”

“Just send it.”

And he hung up. Vanderwood ripped the USB out of the computer, then cursed. It was a little too rough, probably broken. He’d worry about it later. He jammed it in his pocket and reached down for the gun on the floor. Both weapons pointed outwards as he kicked back open the door – all semblance of caution on the backburner.

Back at the car, he floored the pedal and dialed Zen, who picked up immediately to Vanderwood’s surprise.

For an actor, he wasn’t very good at hiding his irritability.

“Zen speaking, how may I help you?”

Too distracted with worst-case scenarios of you, he hesitated speaking. He hadn’t even figured out what he wanted to say.

“Hello. You don’t know me, but my name is Vanderwood. I’m a colleague of…Luciel. I’m trying to find MC, I need any information you have.”

“Mary Vanderwood? Seven’s maid? You sound like a man,” spluttered Zen.

Vanderwood rolled his eyes. “I am a man, yes. Are you still out near all those apartment complexes?”

He started hearing a tapping sound and outside noises.

“What the hell are you doing? Don’t put me on speaker, are you insane?”

The noises ceased immediately.

“Ah, sorry,” whispered Zen. “Yes, kind of. I’m still around.”

“Well stay where you are, I’m coming to get you. Now tell me how you knew she was gone.”

“…So you’ve traced me, too. OK. I know how this sounds, but please trust me on this. I have prophetic dreams, sometimes. I knew today something bad was going to happen to her when I woke up….”

A silent sigh escaped. So this was a waste of time.

“…In the dream, Seven was choking her on some floor. He looked insane and had weird-colored eyes.”

“OK?” Vanderwood didn’t bother trying to entertain this hysteria, sarcasm dripping out. Zen continued on, undeterred.

“She’s staying with you, right? I can even tell you what she was wearing.”

Vanderwood paused. There was no way Zen could be so specific. “Yeah?”

It was a bait, of course. He hadn’t seen you get dressed this morning, so anything Zen said he wouldn’t be able to verify. He would need to confirm with Seven – not that he actually believed Zen knew from a dream.

“Alright. It was a leopard dress shirt with…uh, gold or yellow buttons. The buttons were triangles. It looked expensive. And she had on these black pants with weird, white things on the belt. I couldn’t really see the shape, but they were small. Does that sound right?”

Vanderwood was stunned. He didn’t need to see the cameras – those clothes were not only specific to his favorite brand, but the outfits he bought you. But that didn’t reassure him of anything, it angered him.

“Look, asshole, I don’t know what kind of games you’re playing to know that, but if you have _anything_ to do with her missing I will personally fuck up your face so bad that no one will ever hire you as an actor again. You understand?”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

“Now here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to pick you up, and you’re going to go over every single detail of that dream or whatever. But while we’re on the phone – is there anything else you want to tell me? Anything else I should know? Anything at all.”

He waited, eyes scanning the road for any sign of law enforcement that would surely pull him over for the speeds he was doing.

“…You’re a real piece of work.”

When Vanderwood arrived to pick him up, miraculously not pulled over, Zen was _not_ happy. Why would he be after being threatened? He was the one trying to help MC, so who the heck was this guy? And who did he think he was? Zen eyed his outfit – it was hard to make out Vanderwood’s physique with his clothes, but he figured he could take him in a fight. God, he didn’t look like a Mary at all. Zen was annoyed, but he got in the passenger’s seat. _For MC_ , he told himself.

Struggling to trust Seven because of the dream, he wondered if trying to assist his ‘colleague’ was a good idea. But he strapped in, too late to go back now. Zen eyed the strange GPS app on Vanderwood’s phone that sat mounted on the car, which was explained to him to be the tracker for your phone. Vanderwood was all questions, barely letting Zen finish a thought before he interrogated him with another. It was exhausting.

“I just need something to work on – think.”

“I _am_ thinking!” Zen carped, every minute with Vanderwood feeling like torture. Jumin was one thing, but this guy? Frustrating in a whole new way, he’d never met someone so crass.

“You’re sure she said ‘Seven’? That’s not proof that was actually him in the car with her. Seven can’t be in two places at once.”

“Yes, I’m sure for the _hundredth_ time. Maybe it wasn’t, but she sure thought it was!”

Vanderwood had no retort, he couldn’t imagine any other reason you would willingly leave the apartment with a man in addition to casually picking up Zen’s call after. He needed to speak with Seven. But first – recovering your phone, maybe there were fingerprints. Something, anything would help. He eyed Zen placing his phone to his ear, but saying nothing.

“What are you doing?”

“The call’s still connected, I just listen sometimes. It makes me feel better, I don’t know.”

He tapped a finger on the wheel. “You…have feelings for her or something?”

Zen laughed, a smile lighting up his features as he stared out of the window. “Not really. Well, maybe. I haven’t known her long, but I care about her. She’s nice and she’s my friend.”

A click.

Zen’s face fell, an eyebrow raising as he gazed at Vanderwood.

“ _You_ like her, wow. I didn’t see that coming,” he mused, hoping to get a rise out of the man he already decided he didn’t like.

Vanderwood said nothing, eyes ever scanning. The gasping sound that escaped Zen’s lips was nothing short of disbelief. “You’re joking.”

When he was met with more silence, Zen got stiff. No – no – absolutely not, MC shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near someone so dangerous. A rumble was starting in his throat when he heard shuffling on the line.

“I hear someone,” Zen gasped.

“Put it on speaker and mute yourself,” Vanderwood demanded. Zen obeyed, excitement bubbling. The car slowed down so they could hear better.

“It’s around here somewhere,” a woman’s voice said.

“Just hurry up, I don’t want to miss dinner. Savior will be joining us,” another woman’s voice mused.

“Why won’t Mr. Saeran just give us any access? We wouldn’t need to go through him for every little thing and we could’ve found it sooner,” the first complained.

“Perhaps we should speak with Savior. Even Mr. Ray wouldn’t let us help him,” the second sighed.

“Everyone at Magenta uses their talents but us because of him!”

“Found it!”

More loud shuffling.

“…Oh my god it’s still connected.”

“What?”

The call ended.

“What, uh, huh?” Zen contemplated.

They watched as the glow on the tracker blipped out. Vanderwood set up new coordinates immediately.

“Change of plans?”

“Yeah, they clearly took the phone. No point in going after it now. We’ll go straight to wherever Seven is, then.”

The new coordinates lit up.

“Wow, deep in the woods,” Zen hummed. “Guess we’re still going in the right direction.”

Vanderwood’s fingers flipped the screen to another, stranger-looking app. With a single button, Seven was dialed.

“Seven, I’m with Zen. We have some more information and are headed your way. Tell me if any of this sounds familiar to you and write it down. The voices of two women came to collect the phone.”

“Voices?”

“Zen was still connected to her phone call.”

“Eh?”

“Shut up, just listen. They said there was to be a dinner with a savior tonight. They mentioned Magenta, it might be the name of their base.”

“Magenta?”

“Yeah. And they mentioned the names of two people who are probably their hackers – so don’t feel bad, turns out it wasn’t a single monster after all. They said a ‘Mr. Ray’ and a ‘Mr. Saeran.’”

“Saeran?”

“Sound familiar?”

“…No, I guess not.”

“You _guess_? If you know something, tell me.”

“Sorry, jeez. No, I don’t know any hackers by Ray or Saeran.”

“Liar!”

Zen nearly jumped from Vanderwood’s shout.

“Calm down, he said he didn’t know. What the heck is your problem?” Zen hissed.

“You hesitated,” Vanderwood growled, ignoring the actor.

“…I’ll see you when you get here. We’re hiding out,” said a reluctant Seven.

“We?” Zen and Vanderwood nearly said in unison.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

“Vanderwood?” coughed V, arm lifelessly dangling out the side of the bed. Sweating, he turned on his side again to see Seven on his laptop across the wooden room.

“And Zen,” Seven sighed.

“How did Hyun get mixed up in this,” he groaned.

“Apparently none of the RFA has any faith in me anymore. Woosh! Gone,” he laughed.

But V knew better than to think it was anything but painful for the younger man. Guilt riddled his aching spine.

“I’m going to fix this, Luciel,” he stated, his shivering voice making his words feel weak.

“ _We_ could fix this if you just would let me! MC is missing – _again_! If she dies, I won’t be able to forgive myself. No one else needs to die because of me.”

“I won’t be able to forgive myself, either,” V murmured out with another cough.

“So it’s that important to you to not give me something more?”

“Yes.”

Conviction, if nothing else, were in V’s words. Seven had no choice but to believe him. They both had their secrets.

“I feel better, I’ll be leaving soon,” continued V.

“Not if you want to walk, you’re not. You clearly have some sort of poison in you. What in the world have you been taking?”

“…I don’t know, exactly. But I don’t want it out, not yet.”

“God, V…Are you that deep undercover?”

“Yes, you could say that.”

Seven checked the clock on his laptop screen. “Well, you have about 30 minutes until they get here, I’m guessing. If you want to be allowed to leave without a fight, that’s your limit.”

He coughed before answering. “You think Hyun might stop me?”

“…Actually, it’s Vanderwood I’m worried about.”

“Why is that?”

“He called MC his fiancée. I think he…I think he likes her? He’s very worried, he yelled at me over her.”

“I see,” V sighed, his hand running through his hair. “Things just get more complicated, don’t they?”

Seven acknowledged him with a grunt, pushing away the want to argue with him about his statement being ironic.

15 minutes later, Seven watched V struggle out the door. Worry creased his face, and he took a break to clean his glasses.

20 minutes later, he heard the polite knocking. He was used to Vanderwood banging that the quiet knock gave him unease. Seven reached for his gun before checking the single camera surveillance he managed to put up. Relief.

He opened the door and let the two men in.

“This guy is a reckless driver,” Zen huffed as he slumped down on the nearest seat.

Vanderwood was a lot less relaxed, surveying the area and quickly checking the few rooms that encompassed the wooden cabin.

“Where is V?” Zen asked, watching Vanderwood shuffle around. Vanderwood paused, both of their faces expectantly looking towards Seven.

“He went out.”

“Where,” Vanderwood commanded.

“I don’t know, he can’t tell me,” Seven sighed.

“Wrong answer.”

“Vanderwood, I’m telling you to calm down. What is with you? You’re not yourself,” Seven cautioned.

“This guy is in-love with her,” Zen scoffed. But of course, Seven had already figured that out on his own.

“Shut up. Why the hell was V here in the first place?”

“He’s undercover for something, but he won’t tell me,” muttered Seven.

“The picture guy is an agent?” Vanderwood laughed out a single, sarcastic ‘ha.’ “Of course he is.”

“What?” Zen barked. “No way! Seven, come on.”

“He’s not an agent, he’s just mixed up in something right now,” Seven confirmed.

“What something? You didn’t mention this,” Vanderwood sighed, beginning to pace.

“It had to do with the explosion, I think. But he’s handling it.”

“He’s not out doing photography?” Zen questioned.

“And why would a painter be handling a terrorist instead of the hacking spy?” Yelled the brown-haired man who was dangerously close to taking out his taser.

“He’s doing it to protect us, I don’t have the details.”

“That’s an oxymoron,” said Vanderwood, teeth beginning to clench.

Zen stirred to sit in-between the two, arms folding. He didn’t need to say what he was doing, his eyes letting Vanderwood know exactly why he had moved. Vanderwood rolled his eyes before responding. “Weren’t you the one who suspected Seven? But you’re trying to defend him?”

“I overreacted. Of course Seven wouldn’t hurt MC. Whoever that was that looked like him – the twin with the mint eyes – was not Seven, he probably just had on a realistic mask instead. You were right, he can’t be in two places at once.”

“Mint eyes?” Wondered Vanderwood. “They weren’t green? You said green the first time.”

Zen hummed. “Well, yeah, I guess they were more mint than green.”

“Seven, why aren’t you saying anything? Mint Eye, like you told me.”

“Um, yeah. I guess it doesn’t really help. We already know the organization is connected…”

“Liar.”

“What?” Seven said, pulling his eyes away from his screen.

“You’re not telling me something. You hesitated again.”

“Vanderwood, I swear I’m not trying to—hey!”

The gun felt natural in his hand, even if it was unnatural to point it at the one person he trusted. Or _used_ to trust. Zen stood up, body blocking for Seven who continued to sit with his mouth agape.

“You’ve lost it, Seven is trying to help!” Bellowed Zen, arms raising defensively. “ _This_ is your maid?” He scoffed.

“You’ve been lying to me for too long. A lie by omission is still a lie!”

“Vanderwood,” mumbled Seven, standing up on his own, not bothering to reach for his own gun. He knew better. Even if Vanderwood wasn’t really intending to shoot him, he couldn’t risk challenging his instincts to do it for him.

“You don’t tell me about V, who conveniently leaves before we get here, you don’t tell me about the bomb that _you_ put in the apartment,” he croaked out. “And now you know something about the person with mint eyes who _took_ her!” His arm shook, but remained pointed.

Vanderwood felt like he was breaking apart. All the anxiety since the initial phone call finally took its toll. Seven was standing between him and you. He didn’t believe in prophetic dreams, but he believed in facts. The fact was that based on all the evidence around him, that everything Zen said was probably true. He was going to marry you – he was going to risk everything – and now your life was in danger, your throat at the mercy of an unidentified man.

“If you really wanted my help, you would’ve told me everything from the beginning. I had to hear it from her!” He shuddered.

“ _You_ put the bomb in the apartment?” Zen asked, eyes focused on the threat in front of him, but unease making his serious expression falter.

“I…yes.”

“…Why?”

“It was the special security system. It was Rika’s wish,” Seven sighed.

Zen’s head shook, Seven merely looked down. “Rika wouldn’t ask something so…”

“Insane,” Vanderwood laughed, lowering the gun.  “And let me guess, V knew about it?”

“Yes, he knew.”

“And the mint eyes? Go on,” Vanderwood laughed again. Pure malice. Seven worried his lip.

“Zen, can you give us a moment? It’s nothing personal.”

“He - he just pointed a gun at you?” Zen stuttered.

“I know. It’s alright.”

Zen sighed and lowered his arms, reluctantly leaving the scene and locking himself in the bedroom close by. “Call me if you need me.”

Seven lowered his voice, stepping forward.

“I don’t know about the mint eyes man. It’s just, him having my ‘face’ reminded me of someone in my personal life.”

“Is that really it?”

“Yes, I swear it.”

“Are you saying you have a brother?”

“I’m saying I have a twin. But that’s all I’m speaking on the matter.”

Vanderwood nodded.

“And is it possible that it really was your twin that kidnapped MC?”

“No, not at all. He’s safe, he doesn’t know anything about hacking.”

“How do you know?”

“V took care of it.”

“Of course. And you really don’t know where V has been going?”

“No, I don’t track him. He gave me an encryption of some coordinates just in case something happens to him, but that’s all.”

The gun went away, Vanderwood got all he needed from the interaction.

“Sorry for pointing it at you,” he muttered, turning away from Seven and sitting down on the couch. He never felt so helpless, utterly embarrassed with himself. His hands clenched into each other as he closed his eyes to compose himself.

“We’re…we’re going to find her. It’s going to be alright,” Seven called to him with no response.

“I trust V,” Seven reiterated.

“Yeah, I understand,” hummed Vanderwood.

His shoulders tensed with a single thought.

_But I don’t._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y I K E S! Let's play a game, how many times will someone tell Vanderwood to calm down by the end of everything? ;)
> 
> I hope you guys didn't wait TOO long and enjoyed this meaty chapter! Unfortunately, the next may have an even longer delay. I'm moving this week and things have been hectic (wish me luck)! But do not fear, MC needs to be saved and our beloved Vanderwood will return with a vengeance!


	8. Day 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The strain on Vanderwood's relationship with Seven and the RFA widens, and MC is not having a very good time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning:  
> In this chapter, there are implications of physical abuse and (minor) sexual violence. If that's too much, please skip interactions with Saeran!

Only two or three things in life Vanderwood actually finds funny. One of them is you. Life, for him, is too serious, too dangerous, and too fucking stupid for him to waste his precious time on things like comedy. His only memory of experiencing something ‘funny’ was right before he was recruited as an orphaned child. Distant and fuzzy, he recalls sitting alone in a dump watching a television that barely worked. Continuously banging its side, he beat out the last of its clinging life to make out every other word. He and his rat neighbors scurried in and out of the more-or-less abandoned apartment during the day, and at night he sometimes smiled as he mentally filled in the words the people on the screen were surely saying. With a few stolen Iron Man comic books and stale chips, he sat close enough to the entertainment device that any eye doctor would cringe. In the end, to be paired up with the world’s most dangerous prankster is _probably the most ironic thing he’s faced_. But he doesn’t hate it. Although Seven regularly fails to lighten his mood, at least it’s something different than the mundane everyday he’s accustomed to. Sometimes, although he’d never admit it, he even looks forward to his time with the younger agent despite all the negatives that accompany the assignment.

Yesterday morning, in a hazy flutter of complicated emotions, Vanderwood even thought of thanking Seven for unintentionally introducing you into his life. But now, as the agent once again attempted a bout of ‘humor,’ violent urges swarmed every inch of his being. It was different than anything previous where Vanderwood simply wanted to tase Seven into submission to hurry and do his _god damn job._ Or, at the very least, not make his visits last an extra two hours because he had to clean up behind him.

No, for the first time, Vanderwood was genuinely upset with Seven. Deep down, he blamed him for your disappearance.

And Zen seemed to be the only one who noticed.

“I feel like there’s mint in _my_ eye, waaa,” Seven whined, rubbing his knuckle under his yellow glasses and against his burning eyelids. “My eyes, ah, they hurt!”

Vanderwood ignored the obnoxious pun, changing the topic to his new concern.

“You should just go home if your only purpose is to eat this cabin’s provisions and monitor me,” Vanderwood suggested in his usual cool tone. Although he long ago decided that the actor was irrational and emotion-driven, if he said it aloud, Seven might finally say something and convince him to leave. Vanderwood sat across from Zen at the kitchen table, typing on his laptop and running on fumes as he found himself unable to sleep in the unfamiliar place he felt was insecure. He had hoped the windows were at least bulletproof. They weren’t.

Zen glared at him, pausing his next bite into the protein bar. “Oh, you would _love_ that I’m sure. I’m not leaving here as long as you and your gun are around Seven.”

Vanderwood sighed. Once again, the silver-haired man wasn’t facing the reality of the situation. “Don’t be stupid, if I wanted Seven dead there is nothing you could do to stop me.”

Zen took an angry bite, rolling his eyes and peering over at Seven who sat on the couch with his earphones.

“Hey, I know you can hear me,” he called. “How can you stand this guy?”

“Ah! Vanderwood! I got an image!”

Nearly toppling over the chair, Vanderwood shot up from his seat and ran over to the couch, peering down over Seven’s shoulders. His gloved hands gripped the edge of the cushion as his eyes darted over the screen. Sure enough, there it was – a crystal clear image from a hacked security camera, showing the edge of a white building and a person in a black robe.

Vanderwood took it in, studying everything he could before it fizzled out.

“Send me that picture,” he muttered, rushing back to his seat and ruffling his hair. He felt disgusting and in need of a shower, but his anxiety prevented him from doing anything but focusing on saving you.

So Magenta was a white building. He wasn’t sure how helpful the new information was yet, but he was glad they were making progress at all. The hacker duo – the alleged Saeran and Ray – preventing the tag team effort of Vanderwood and Seven were formidable. He wasn’t nearly as proficient in hacking as Seven, but even he could tell the methods the enemy was using stretched Seven’s expertise. He’d never in his life seen something so vicious. Whoever this was hardly slept and even when he didn’t seem active, he left so much destruction in his wake that Seven couldn’t manage to shift through it before the next attack.

The image came in, Vanderwood sat back in his chair and stared at it, trying to focus on the terrain to pick up anything useful. But he couldn’t concentrate on any corner of the picture before other intrusions flaked at the edges, blurring everywhere his eyes traveled. _Were you in that building? Were you…alive?_

Vanderwood was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice Zen standing behind him, taking a look for himself until he spoke. “Hey, uh, Vanderwhatever, can you zoom in a little on the robe guy?”

Absentmindedly, he obliged.

“I’m not sure if it’s a stretch or not, but Yoosung mentioned weird people in robes trying to recruit downtown on the SKY campus?”

“It’s definitely a stretch,” Vanderwood muttered before adding, “Call him for me.”

Zen backed away from behind him, eyes narrowing and tilting his head to the side. His hair, a little messy and oily from spending the night with no brush, shimmered a yellow-tinted gray in the mellow cabin light. “You want to use my phone to call Yoosung? What happened to keeping this off the messenger?”

“There’s no solid proof they can see what we say on the messenger,” Vanderwood shrugged, opening his palm towards Zen expectantly. His fingers uncurled in his direction, motioning him forward. Zen ignored the pull, turning to Seven instead.

“Hey, Seven, are you hearing him? He’s taking everything he said back for no reason!”

With no answer, he stepped over to knock on his skull like a door. “Hey!”

Seven mumbled and removed his glasses, wiping at his eyes once more. “What…uh, yeah. I don’t think we should, Vanderwood. I still think MC must’ve left because of a message. It doesn’t really like sense otherwise.” Seven’s eyes traveled upwards to the annoyed crimson ones above him, then back to his work. He couldn’t muster the energy to speak to the other agent directly.

Vanderwood’s fingers balled into a fist and retreated to his side. He wasn’t sure if this feeling was disheartened or disappointment, but it was still awful as it pulled at his gut.

He dropped the topic without so much as a sigh and returned to his three programs – the one with the picture of the security image to study, the one where he assisted Seven in his security of the hacker’s continuous attacks, and the third, secret one where he continued to decrypt the coordinates V sent Seven. He felt the table move as Zen sat back down, protein bar gone and boredom creeping back in.

It was silent in the cabin once more, safe for the clacking of keyboards and the soft sighs of an actor who was failing to hide his feelings of dejected hopelessness. It began to rain, as if the invisible tears weren’t enough.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

“Excellent, now don’t turn it back on until I give you the OK. In fact, just leave it by my door,” he mused. The suited Seven’s hair was still damp, newly bleached white.

The thin phone fell away from the side of his face, a grin seeming to tear at the corners of his face. It was unnatural, and only accented by his large and focused mint-colored contacts. Like a hungry dog, his tongue flicked out of his mouth as if it were lolling for just a moment, before slipping back in just in time for his body to shiver in excitement. You were a piece of meat, and you were scared. A recurring thought fueled your fear and fueled your anger, but mostly disbelief permeated through your mind. Despite everything, you just couldn’t understand the sudden, inexplicable change. Was…was Vanderwood capable of something like this, too?

“Why?” You whispered.

Seven laughed, tongue flicking out once more as he approached his prize. He strolled around in a circle, eyeing your chained body that sat in the middle of a stone room with multiple cells, empty except for one where a still figure in a black robe lay against the wall. You were unconscious when they brought the person in and you still weren’t sure if they were alive. You hadn’t dared to ask.

The phone was slipped into his pocket and the hacker dropped into a squat, studying your terrified expression. Your wrists were already beginning to feel raw, but you still inadvertently leaned away from his face, feeling a tinge of pain that made you wince.

“Are you in pain?” He asked, mock concern in his grin.

“Where am I?” You demanded for the fourth time, refusing to play his game.

“You know, if neither of us answer the other’s questions, we’ll never get anywhere,” he sighed, comfortably resting his chin in his hand as if he was pondering how to make this relationship work.

“You _kidnapped_ me,” you stated, meeting his eyes.

His eyebrows raised and his lips cooed out a short “o.”

“Did you just now figure that out? Smart girl,” he chuckled.

You spat at his face.

“Fuck you.”

He fell back on his butt, hastily rubbing your anger-filled saliva from his nose as if it was contagious. Seven looked back at you, the smile gone as if it was never there. It took only a moment for his hand to wrap around your neck and you coughed out from the sudden pressure. A snarl rumbled from his throat and he shook you once, twice, thrice before his lips were on yours – a kiss devoid of anything but hatred as he stole what you considered sacred. His soft lips felt like granite as they ripped across yours, and you squeaked as you felt his teeth. As if taking a taste of apple, he drew blood with a vicious bite on your bottom lip. He drew away, loosening his grip only just slightly on your throat. You took the opportunity to alleviate your lungs, a breath of air that felt stale and dry rather than fresh. Fire etched onto your lips, every breath reigniting its burn. He shook your neck again to emphasize his words, his lips’ hissing hot and sticky on your ear.

“It’d be wise for you to know your place. You shitty airhead, you’re only breathing now because I _allow_ it.”

He let you go and you coughed out, leaning your head over and feeling the raw pull of the cuffs once more. The sting of your busted lip felt nothing like your new helplessness, dripping out of you like the beads of blood that fell new onto your dungeon’s floor.

He stood back up, staring down at you. A shoe began to move and you flinched, but it gently raised your head to look up at him instead of kicking you. He looked concerned again, and his leg fell back down. Not sure what to do, you returned his gaze, albeit begrudgingly.

“I don’t want to hurt you, so please don’t do anything stupid. Because I will kill you,” he sighed. Your eyes darted in the direction of the still figure before finding his again. Seven smiled. “He’s not dead, don’t worry.”

A buzz on his phone stole away his delight and he turned around to answer it, walking slowly to the stairs that led up and out of the cellar. “Yes, my Savior. I’m on my way now. Yes. For paradise.” When he approached the first step, he paused and spun on his heel in your direction with a small wave. “Be good, and I’ll make your cleansing as painless as possible. But if you’re not, you’ll probably end up like him. You’ll get along, I think.” He nodded in the direction of the occupied cell.

And then he was gone.

You waited a few moments before struggling to stand up to remove some of the pressure the cuffs were having on your hands. You sighed, peering at the unconscious or sleeping figure near you. You felt a small sense of relief knowing it wasn’t a rotting corpse beside you.

The body began to move and you watched them sit up, their face hidden by their robe’s hood.

“Are you alright?” You whispered, before clearing your throat and repeating it louder, a small clench in your neck quickly reminding you of the previous man’s assault on your body.

“I was just waiting for him to leave…All of this and you still worry about someone else,” a man’s throbbing voice chuckled dryly.

The familiarity of the voice made you freeze.

“Who is that?” Your voice pitch higher, not even attempting to hide your fear.

His shoulders fell and he sat silently for a moment before raising his head, the hood falling loosely behind him. You repositioned your feet as they threatened to slip out from under you. His mint eyes met yours, slightly glazed over.

“V?” You coughed out.

“Oh my god V, they got you, too,” you mumbled, panic returning in the form of your restless arms.

He shook his head, shame evident on his features. “No, they didn’t…”

You stared at him and you were sure he was trying to return the connection, but the state of his eyes suggested otherwise. His words came back into mind and you tried to piece them together.

“You’re…one of them?” You couldn’t believe it. It didn’t make sense. Sure, he was wearing their clothes but he was also in one of their cells. But…considering Seven…

“I’m infiltrating,” he explained. “Are you in pain?”

You nodded, although at the moment you felt too numb to feel the full brunt as you had before.

“So, they, they,” you stammered, trying to make sense of V being here with you, “they found out about you? And so they put you in here?”

“Something like that. This is part of my cleansing, I’ll be moved soon,” he hummed.

“What is that? Why did Seven keep mentioning it? Why is he doing this, V? And why was…” You hesitated, knowing it was a touchy subject. Yoosung came to mind first, you figured your absence was known by now at the RFA. He must be worried sick. “…Why did his phone say he had a missed call from…Rika?”

His eyes lit up, you wondered if you shouldn’t have mentioned her by name. But just as quickly as they burned, the glaze seemed to overtake him once more and his face was returned to the darkness of the lonely cell behind the gray iron bars.

“That’s not Luciel,” he said slowly, beginning to stretch his shoulders and finding more interest in the ground at his feet. “I guess it’s pointless to hide it since you’ve seen him. That’s his brother, Saeran. He’s not well, but please don’t blame him…This is all my fault. I promise I’ll get you out of here. Just…wait, alright? And whatever happens, when you get out, don’t tell Luciel about him.”

The ridiculous notion that the hacker Seven had a demented, twin brother was quickly accepted, considering your circumstances.

“What…? Why the hell not? Saeran’s out of his mind!”

He sighed, eyes struggling to focus in on you again. “I understand, but it’ll break his heart and Saeran hates him right now. If Luciel finds out, who knows what he’ll do. He could put everyone in danger. I know he’ll hate me, but I’m willing to endure the blame if everyone can get out of here safely, including Saeran.”

His words were clear, but made no sense once you tried to bring them together. “V…you’re a hacker, too? Or an agent?”

He shook his head and your heart dropped. You wanted to ask him more, but nothing immediately came to mind. He wasn’t a secret agent, but he was in so deep in a scandal that you couldn’t comprehend how he even got this far if he was just a photographer. “What is this place, V?” You focused in on his mint eyes, and you guessed the answer as he gave it.

“This is Magenta, Mint Eye’s base. It’s…a cult.”

“I’m going to guess it’s an illegal one, then,” you laughed, bitterness spilling out of your words.

“Yes.”

“Wait,” you said, shaking your head. “You didn’t answer my question. What is cleansing?” You decided not to ask about Rika again. If Saeran wasn’t in his right mind, his fellow cult members probably weren’t either. Posing as a dead girl and calling him didn’t seem so farfetched.

V rubbed a hand through his hair as he struggled to find his words. “It’s…not good. It’s different for everyone. So I don’t know what they’ll try to do to you, but whatever it is, it’ll include brainwashing. For your sake, just…play along, try not to anger them.”

Of course. You stared down at your hands in the cuffs.

“Alright, I understand,” you whimpered. Reality seemed so far away that panic no longer felt like adrenaline – now, it was something heavy. It was something that weighed on your heart and drifted like a breeze through your mind. Instead, you thought of Vanderwood. Was he disappointed? Or angry? Or scared? Was he looking for you right now, or did he think you ran away? Either way, you knew he’d be as heartbroken as you were. You should have stayed inside like he asked you, but now you were in yet another mess for him to fix. Maybe, you thought, he figured you were more trouble than you were worth. You certainly were beginning to think so. As tears began to form, V’s soft voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright. I promise.”

You nodded in response as another drop of blood fell on your cuffs. You wanted to believe him, but as he sat in a cell of his own you wondered how much worth his promises really held.

You heard the door of the cellar and froze. V stumbled back into his spot against the wall, a still figure once more. You looked away from him and watched as the feet of your captor came into view.

He waved, his other hand holding a half-eaten skewer of mixed meat and vegetables. He took another bite of the skewer, and his other hand slipped into a pocket to pull out a set of keys. You felt stupid for the surge of hope that shimmered through you. Saeran’s eyes ran over you and he smiled before turning his attention to the occupied cell.

“Rise and shine, traitor. The morning breakfast of the leftover feast food is for all Believers, even scum like you. Savior’s request, of course. You’re to report straight there. Any detours and I’ll kill you,” he laughed. It was lighthearted, which made it all the more terrifying. He unlocked the door, taking another bite of his skewer.

“Wake up!” He screamed, spitting food out as he kicked V’s backside. He scrambled to stand up, ducking into a quick bow and a mumbled, “For paradise,” before scurrying away. His hands reached around him for support as he brushed out of the cell and to the stairs before ascending out of view.

_It’s different for everyone._

You wondered if V’s cleansing included weakening his eyesight. As a photographer, you couldn’t think of anything more evil to do to him. You were probably right. You felt sick. What would they try to take from you?

Saeran waited until he was out of view before his head tilted towards you. The wicked grin returned to his features as he continued to chew on his skewer.

“Oh, I bet you’re hungry, huh? Become one of us and you can join the celebration,” he offered. You didn’t take the bait, deciding silence was a better answer. He took a few steps until he was in front of you, his pointer finger now twirling the ring of keys in a steady swing. “All you have to do is take the elixir and swear allegiance. You may not even need a cleansing if you’re eager enough. Go on, beg, convince me,” he hissed, mirth in his focused gaze.

“My promises actually mean something, you know,” he laughed, leaning his face in. You tensed, giving him your cheek lest he try to bite your aching lip again.

“Ooh, naughty girl, you want me to mark all over your face, huh? You want me to kiss your cheek next?”

You closed your eyes, praying he decided to leave soon.

“Trusting Seven is what got you in this mess you know, you should have called the police when you had the chance,” his tone turned sour as he continued. “Seriously, he almost got you _killed_ by installing a bomb in a crowded apartment. What kind of sane person does that?”

Ironic, you thought.

You heard the jingle of the keys and felt your cuffs pull. Your head returned to Saeran’s direction, who now held his skewer stick with his mouth as he fumbled to un-cuff your hands. They fell off you immediately, clanking to the hard floor, and you rubbed your wrist. The skewer returned to his hand. “If it hurt, you should have told me sooner. Now look at your pretty little bruise, that’s no good.”

You could totally punch him right now. But V’s glazed eyes and words of caution made you control the urge.

“My ankles are starting to hurt too,” you claimed. He chuckled. “Oh please, I’m not stupid. If they really start to hurt, let me know and I’ll put you in a cell. But I like you here, it’s easier to watch you on the cameras.” Saeran giggled at your expression. “Of course there’s cameras, silly. But don’t worry, I can’t hear anything, so whatever exchange you and the believer probably had will go unknown. Unless you want to tell me, of course.” His eyes seemed to brighten and he waited for your response that didn’t come.

“You’re usually so fun, this is really disappointing,” he sighed after a few silent breaths.

Usually?

“Hey, I know, let’s play a game!” He cooed, eyes widening.

“Give me an answer to a question, and I’ll give you a piece of food.”

The smell of the grilled meat filled your nostrils, your stomach’s growl betraying the lie you were about to give him about not wanting any. He waved the skewer near your face, but you didn’t flinch. You wouldn’t entertain his evil.

His smile finally fell. His hand reached up and gripped your chin, jerking it towards him. “You don’t have a choice, airhead.” The grin flashed in response to your shock, “Such a cute face. I’ll make it easy for you. You play the game or I bite you some more. Now say ‘yes,’ if you understand.”

You hesitated but nodded, earning you a rough shake. “You open your mouth and answer ‘yes’!”

You grunted out a ‘yes’ and he let you loose. You massaged your chin and he waved the skewer again like a triumphant flag.

“Good girl! First question, what did V—no, Number A306 tell you?”

“Just that your, um, name is Saeran,” you stated, hoping this piece of information would be interesting enough that he wouldn’t pry for more.

It seemed so, as his eyebrows furrowed. He leaned the skewer forward, motioning for you to take a bite. Timidly, you removed a piece of the glistening meat and stuffed it in your stinging mouth. Shit, it was delicious. Your tongued savored its texture, part of you wondering if it would be your first and last piece. This man was volatile, you didn’t know how long he wanted to play this game.

“Yes, it is,” Saeran confirmed matter-of-factly. You felt shy under the intensity of his stare, once again, as much of a piece of meat as the one in your jaws.

But Saeran didn’t notice your discomfort, too hungry for your answers, your fear, and your _body_ to care about how he looked as he took you in. He wondered if V told you more, but he had no way of forcing the information out that didn’t end with Savior’s disappointment. At the very least, you had answered the first question truthfully. You knew his name now. Part of it made him happy, especially since you definitely weren’t going to confuse him with his scum brother, but part of him felt annoyance that you hadn’t just asked him this entire time. You’ve been quiet, and he hated it. He wanted to hear more of your voice, but you were denying him.

Things weren’t supposed to turn out this way. He wrestled internally with what to do with you. He could kill you and silence you forever, or he could have his way with you and make you one of them, his personal toy. Now that you were here, the possibilities were endless. Blowing up the apartment was the quickest way to cover up his failure or threat of being traced when you declined to become party coordinator. After all the effort and time he spent in finding and studying you, the perfect candidate, how ironic that that you proceeded with the party plans anyway after nearly being killed. Once again, since you didn’t die, the bomb activation had been a major mistake in the end, but he was trying his damn hardest to correct it.

Yes, he had been re-cleansed after his failure, but this time– _this time_ , Savior would commend him. Savior’s happiness depended solely on how well you worked with him and pushed forward with the party, and he was anxious. He’d do anything to not fail again, even hurt you just enough. What a situation, he mused.

But it was onto Plan C, now at Savior’s request. Saeran was going to give you a new phone soon with the latest version of his RFA app, one that was entirely untraceable unlike the glaring failure that was his brother’s. This time, under his supervision, you would stop with all the distractions at Seven’s colleague’s house, and continue gathering guests. And of course, you were a perfect hostage if the RFA did not comply. Too much had happened to leave you with the option to go to the authorities at any time, you simply knew too much now. People had died in the explosion, any attempts to remain in obscurity were now long gone. He wondered if he should break the news that he had no intentions of you leaving—ever.

Lost in his thoughts, Saeran pushed the skewer into your hands. He didn’t feel like playing the game anymore, not with the way you were quizzically staring at him. “Eat,” he demanded. You complied, cautious at first before diving into what was left on the stick. He smiled, eyes trailing over your lips as they parted to take in bits and pieces. Small spurts of juice drew his attention to the way your teeth crashed down. And your tongue, the cute thing, popped in and out of view as your mouth opened and closed around the food. He eyed the split lip, not as attractive as the rest of you but serving as a reminder that he had given into his lust and had the opportunity to kiss you. It wasn’t reciprocated, of course, but he wouldn’t deny that he had wanted to do it for months now when you first became a candidate. What else could he do to you? Could he _make_ you reciprocate it with just the right kind of threat?

Alternatively, if he re-cuffed your hands, there’d be nearly nothing you could do to stop him. He mulled over the idea, imagining what your cries of terror and gasps of ecstasy might sound like under his itching fingers. “Do you like it?” He asked, deciding to exit his rabbit hole of conflicting emotions that hopped back and forth in his mind and showed in his darting eyes.

You nodded slowly, chewing on the last bit of a green pepper. Your neck appeared just as appetizing as he watched the downward bulge of your swallow. He wet his lips and peeked back at the stairs, still debating on his next move. Should he bring you more and tease you with it, demanding actions or words in exchange? Or maybe give into his desires now and bring you leftovers. You couldn’t starve, not yet, you still had a job to do. Maybe he was being too kind, you should _earn_ your food here. Yes, you will have to earn your—!

His heart jumped, what the hell? He turned back, shock plastered on his face as you fell down and raced to unlock your ankle cuffs with the keys you had just snatched out of his pocket.

Anger flashes bulged his eyes. Like a snapshot, images of a screaming Savior, a burning Magenta, and drowning in blue elixir penetrated him just beyond his pupils and through his chest. No. No, you _idiot._

With a screech that seemed to come from behind him, he pounced on top of you, not caring about the painful thud of his knees that scraped through his pants fabric against the ground. “You idiot, _you idiot!”_

Clawing at him with one hand, your fingernails scratched at his face. He moved his head away from your touch that threatened to remove his eye. His arm slammed against the hostile arm, your other still reaching and trying to turn the key inside the chain’s keyhole. He heard the first click and felt panic, more visions of gagging through a restless sea of blue poison. Fury replaced it quickly, you had done enough to elicit him pain from Savior and you won’t do it again. With a full fist and only a smidge of hesitation, he drew back and protected Mint Eye. You screamed, but it did not deter him from his own.

“This is _your_ fault, yours!”

But you kept trying. And he drew back again. And you screamed under him, again, tears streaming down your face, cries of “No!” going ignored.

So he drew back again. And again. And once more until your hand finally let the key go. He snatched it out of the keyhole and sat up over you, breathing heavily as his high calmed down. You were still conscious, but he had probably broken your nose. His bloodiest fist had all the evidence he needed.  He grimaced, still feeling the tickle of heat that surrounded his upper body and especially his ears, but he couldn’t bring himself to still be angry. You cried softly under him, hands hovering your face as you tried to guide yourself through the nauseating waves of pain.

Saeran couldn’t bring himself to speak, mouth gaping open and closed now that you had been reduced from a howling wolf to a whimpering pup. He scooted back and stood up, keys jingling and then becoming mute as they slipped into the comfort of his pocket once more. “It’s your fault,” he whispered, turning on his heel to return to the feast. He slowed down as he left your view, but didn’t turn back. But it was for the best, otherwise, he would’ve seen the way you glared at him through half-closed and bruising eyes and known you had no intention of cooperating again.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

Jaehee Kang hesitated over the call button. Her morning had been awful—she had already changed her skirt after spilling coffee on it, got new coffee only to taste that it was the wrong order, her boss was nowhere to be found and ignoring her desperate texts, and now she was to suddenly lead a meeting full of seniors because of his absence.

Hoping for Zen to cheer her up, she had only received one-word answers. Was he busy? But that couldn’t be it. He wasn’t due to start practicing for his new role for a few more days, he hadn’t even received the script yet. So what was keeping him away from the chatroom and away from her? Now that she thought about it, you and Luciel had also disappeared. Although the boisterous hacker would pop-in once or twice a day, even his visits seemed short and to-the-point. Neither of them were acting as themselves. And you—you hadn’t been there at all for nearly 24 hours now. Were you having issues with your phone?

Her phone lit up and she smiled, but it disappeared when she realized it was Yoosung calling and not Zen. She shook her head, no, she’s always happy to guide the younger man. She picked up the call and hoped her voice didn’t make the state of her morning too obvious. “Hello Yoosung, how are you?”

“H-hey Jaehee, um…” His timid voice went quiet, before he stuttered his response out. “Have you heard from MC? Like, anything at all?”

“No, I’m sorry. What’s wrong? Can I help you with anything?”

She could hear the buzz of static and small gusts of wind, his silence beginning to worry her. “Yoos-?”

“-Um, sorry. No, was just wondering. If you hear from her, can you let me know?”

“Of course, Yoosung.”

“Thanks, Jaehee.”

And just like that the phone beeped. One of the bodyguards outside her door peeked in from the loud sound, then returned to his position. She placed the phone back down, taking a sip from the bad-tasting coffee and beginning to gather her things for the upcoming meeting. Why were things so complicated these days?

Yoosung kicked a can he nearly tripped over, fists balling in his pockets as they tried to contain his fear and protect themselves from the chilly air. The bodyguards weren’t as playful today, keeping more to themselves as they wondered why the young man they were protecting was so agitated. He gazed over the ruins of Rika’s apartment complex, nearly all the small debris and litter now picked up and heavy vehicles beginning to move the large chunks of rubble. The very bottom of the building will have to be knocked down, but they weren’t quite ready yet. The beeping sounds of vehicles backing up had faded not too long ago as the active vehicles went still, their nightshift workers leaving for the day.

There was no doubt in his mind that something had happened to you. After you spent time together, you both promised to keep up daily communication. You had told him that if you disappeared, it was probably bad but not to worry too much. You were in safe hands where you were staying. He had nodded enthusiastically, but now that you hadn’t said anything in 24 hours as planned, he wondered if you were just saying that to make him feel better. Since Seven didn’t mention it, he figured that maybe nothing terrible really had happened. Maybe your phone malfunctioned or the battery died, that would make the most sense.

But as the sound of crumbling came from inside what was left of the apartment, Yoosung gritted his teeth. He liked you, but it had only been a few days and already the daily communication was interrupted. Reluctantly, he decided he couldn’t trust your words either. You promised you would be safe—but you lied, just like everyone else.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

“I’m going out,” Vanderwood declared, the loud scrape of his chair scooting against the wooden floor and garnering him attention from the other two, distracted men.

“Pft, yet another cigarette?” Zen mumbled, feeling nauseous from being still and eating unhealthy canned goods and protein bars. He lifted his head from resting on the table, pieces of hair sticking to the wet drool he left behind from his previous nap. “Oh, then a walk?” His voice piped up, a bubble of excitement that tailed Vanderwood’s silence. Zen quickly rubbed his face and attempted to redo his ponytail.

“Does it matter?” Vanderwood snapped, ruffling his hair and straightening his jacket as he quickened his pace to the door. Zen rolled his eyes, peeking over at Seven, who had already returned his sights to his laptop.

“Well I’m going out too, I need a run or I’ll go crazy,” Zen called, standing up and following behind the irritated and restless man.

It was nearing afternoon and he finally lost his patience. There had been no improvements in the situation. Not a single breakthrough or hint of a breakthrough to indicate that they hadn’t been wasting their time. The only thing he got was a headache. Vanderwood let his decryption program on auto run, but it would probably be another hour before he got some new information on V’s coordinates. He was a field agent, it was time to see if he could pick up any information outside on his own. If Seven wouldn’t pursue him, he had no choice but to do this by himself.

What had initially been an annoying and specific image painted by Zen, dismissed for being so ridiculous, now plagued his thoughts. Seven—or his brother—pinning down his beloved. You, chained on the ground, helpless as a man straddled you and held your arms. Who knows what he planned to do to you in that position? He felt sick and he hated it, he hated that he was so in-love. Life was playing a joke on him for it, he felt the weight of karma as she jumped up and down on his backside.

_You’re an idiot, of course you’d fall in-love with the girl targeted by some sort of terrorist, anti-charity organization._

Why had he hoped for something different than pure torture and difficulty? This was his life, and karma was stabbing him for even daring to think otherwise. He breathed in fresh mountain air, the cabin door remaining open for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the daylight. Zen pushed past him and he grimaced. Why was this man still here? He had held his tongue so far, but he wondered how long he could manage that too. The only reason he hadn’t shut Zen down from the moment he mentioned his relationship with you was because he was confused.

He didn’t care what Zen thought about his impending marriage to you and didn’t want him involved in his love life— _God, was this his love life?—_ but for a moment, he felt a tinge of jealousy. Zen was attractive, sincere, and most importantly, not a _constant threat_ to your life by being around you. Vanderwood sought what was best for you, and for a brief moment, wondered if things would have been better or different had you stayed with Zen instead of him. At Zen’s residence, you would’ve had bodyguards and maybe you’d still be there and not…wherever you were.

Guilt, that’s what it was. Although he still placed so much blame on Seven and V at the moment, after taking the time to calm down he could see his place in your departure. He was gone so often, facing threats that could follow him back home while you battled with an ever present one. Alone, in his apartment, with no real security other than cameras and an electric door handle. If someone wanted you dead, those two things would not stop them.

Vanderwood watched Zen stretch out on the grass. The actor alternated between bending over, waving his arms, and running in place. He was used to this, a well-adjusted man who seemed to exercise regularly. He was…normal. Unlike him.

“What happened to your bodyguards?” He finally asked, pulling the door closed and beginning to stretch himself, but at a much more controlled and slow pace. He didn’t have the energy or care to exuberantly display his flexibility.

Zen grinned as he sat down to stretch his legs. “I ditched them! I couldn’t have them around to meet a lady, so I told them to meet me out front for a run while I snuck out from the roof.”

“How tenacious,” Vanderwood hummed, massaging his shoulder blades now. “After your walk, I’ll drop you off back in the city.” Another push, he thought. But alas, it was met with another shove.

The scowl returned to the actor’s face. “Look, I know you don’t like me, and I don’t like you much either, but I’m not leaving until she’s back.”

“Why?”

He looked stunned at his question, which Vanderwood didn’t really understand. He hadn’t asked him to do any hard-hitting calculations or what the meaning of life was, just a simple ‘why.’ At the very least, Vanderwood appreciated him being so easy to figure out. Unlike most people he dealt with, all emotions and intentions were as plainly written on his face as the color of the clouds in the sky. Zen picked himself off the ground, hands going to his hips. Vanderwood internally sighed, already knowing he was going to be complicated again.

“Because I have to make sure she’s alright, I can’t just go home and do nothing,” he huffed.

“You don’t have to do anything. You’re already doing nothing and can do that at your home instead. If it’s such an issue, we will let you know when we have secured her. Your presence here only lessens our supplies and creates a distraction. You understand, right?”

He hoped his gentle tone of voice and careful explanation would help him understand the situation, but instead of a sigh and nod as he had hoped for, Zen fumed. Vanderwood watched his fingers curl into a fist and tensed as the man approached before stopping, just out of reach of being a threat.

“I am not doing nothing! I’ve been looking up stuff about this mountain and Mint Eye and black robe-wearing people or whatever this whole time!” His arms flailed dramatically to emphasize his verbal defense. “And when you guys figure out where she is, I’ll be going with you!” Zen puffed out his chest, one hand splayed over his heart as if he was pledging every word coming out of his mouth.

“You can do that at home, and you definitely won’t be coming with us,” Vanderwood declared, allowing himself just a single scoff of disdain. He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out the white box. He sighed. It was empty, he had smoked nearly an entire pack in 24 hours. It was probably for the best he ran out. He crushed it in his hand, the white material easily bending in his grasp to resemble a strangled bow, and begrudgingly stuffed it back into its home.

Zen’s arms slid away with a sigh before folding back into a defensive position. With crossed arms, he flipped his ponytail onto his shoulder. “Let’s go for a walk, you need to need to move after smoking all that junk. Seriously, I hope you haven’t been choking MC with that garbage if that’s how much you smoke.”

“Don’t lecture me,” Vanderwood snapped, twisting on his heel as he began to take strides away from Zen. Who did this man think he was to patronize him, or assume he didn’t have your best interests in mind? His hands stuffed into his pants pockets, fidgeting as he tried to think of something else to distract him. Yes, he would investigate for a while. Maybe he could find which direction V took, he doubted the man had any experience covering tracks. His eyes surveyed the area, part of him craving another cigarette while the other tried to imagine what the hell the RFA head was thinking by getting involved in the most ridiculous shit possible with seemingly no backup. When he got his hands on that idiot he’d—

“Vanderwood, hello?”

“Oh, you’re still here,” he mumbled, the crunch of Zen’s feet against the mountain grass and leaves letting him know he was fast approaching from behind.

“Seven seems to trust you, even with that whole gun thing, that’s the only reason I’m even tolerating you,” he started, jogging up to Vanderwood’s side.

_As if it matters._

“You just need to not let your personal feelings interfere.”

_Ironic, moronic._

“I know she’s cute and whatever and hung out with you for a while, but remember that it was under your supervision that she went missing in the first place!”

_Got me there._

“At the very least, someone she trusts has to be there for her when we get her back. Can we at least agree on that being a good reason for me to be here?”

Vanderwood finally stopped, Zen stepping ahead before pausing also to look back. Zen focused in on the body language of the man and quickly came to the conclusion that he had upset him. Although usually stoic, now his jaw seemed to twitch and one eye squinted. Vanderwood’s arms folded, a poster image of intimidation. Zen thought he was patching things up with him, explaining his thought process since Vanderwood seemed to insist on his absence from the whole affair on the basis that he was useless. Which he _wasn’t._

“Listen, _Zen_ ,” he stressed, mocking as if he knew that wasn’t his real name. “The one she trusts is _me_. The one she loves is _me._ The one who’s getting her back is _me_. She’s _my_ fiancée and I don’t need some gang member-turned-two-bit actor who smokes and drinks all night telling me about how to be healthy or how to take care of her!”

“T-two… _bit_?” He couldn’t believe the sudden vitriol coming out of his mouth, only partially surprised that the agent knew his history and habits. A rebuttal for the insult quickly dissipated under the sudden weight of what Vanderwood was saying about the woman he was trying to help rescue. “ _You_? Love _you_? _Fiancée_? Are you insane?”

The man rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “If I was insane you’d have been shot by now. Yes, we’re getting married, you get the picture now? You’re not needed, but I thank you for your assistance. If you actually manage to find any interesting information, Seven is just a call away.” The intensity of Vanderwood’s shoulders finally slacked, but Zen stiffened.

“No.”

“No?”

“I don’t believe you, she never mentioned…this,” he scoffed with a twirl of his hand, pivoting away from him to continue marching forward. Vanderwood paused, then followed.

“That’s not really my problem if you don’t believe me,” he called to him. Zen simply shook his head in response, his swinging ponytail reminding Vanderwood of a freakishly long tail. It reminded him of some white cat, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Did Agent Seven mention it? An indent drew his attention away from Zen’s pouting backside and to an abnormally crinkled leaf.

“Stop,” he shouted, squatting down to give it more attention. His head felt a little dizzy from the movement, but a fleeting shimmer of hope forced him to continue to focus.

“What now?” Zen huffed, pausing his steps to peer back at the ‘deranged’ man, before beginning to return to his side. “Stop what? I—“

A glare from Vanderwood hitched his breath and steps, freezing him in its deathly embrace. The agent returned his gaze downward, and Zen remained where he was. Why was he staring at the ground? Feeling awkward, he waited patiently. The air was getting cooler, he briefly wondered if it would be harsh on his skin, before guilt turned his thoughts towards you. Were you warm in that eerie dungeon? The man in the Seven mask had to be insane, but calculated. Part of him didn’t believe a mask could be that realistic—not even in the most expensive ones a production could buy—but he couldn’t think of anything else. You were in a car, so you were right next to the man. Maybe Vanderwood was right, maybe you had only mentioned Seven in conversation and never thought you were with the young hacker at all. But if that’s true, why were you sneaking off the mountains with a…Oh.

Zen cocked his head to the side, studying Vanderwood’s serious expression. Sure, he wasn’t trying to keep up any sort of appearance and was a little rough around the edges, but he wasn’t too proud to admit the man was handsome with a nice sense of style. With a little work he could even make a decent model. Was there any truth to what Vanderwood had just said, could you have begun some sort of romantic relationship with this guy? You were so bright and interesting and kind, and Vanderwood was so…off. You two didn’t match at all, Zen couldn’t see it. So much so that he wondered if you weren’t sneaking off at all, but getting _away from him_ with some man before unfortunate events happened. Vanderwood clearly cared about you, albeit showing it in some roundabout way. Maybe that made you uncomfortable. Maybe this was all _his_ fault. Maybe he should’ve been trying to stop Vanderwood all along and not Seven. The pool of thoughts tried to evaporate as Vanderwood finally spoke, but as Zen read his lips, he inadvertently continued to ponder.

“It has to be V,” Vanderwood said with a grunt, standing up from his squat and clapping dirt from his hands. “He was stumbling along like a drunk, using some sort of stick that was puncturing holes in the ground to help him move. If it hadn’t rained and I’d thought of this earlier I’d probably find him easy, these are probably the worst possible tracks you could leave. They’re so blatant and obvious, he probably even brushed some trees. Christ, we’re not safe here if anyone from Mint Eye ever bothered to follow him, even if they were a complete beginner to tracking. It’s insane how careless it is.”

“You…got all of that from some dirt?” He asked, eyes looking for the mentioned ‘holes’ before widening. “Oh! Yeah, V’s eyesight is going bad, he probably was using a cane.”

“Seriously?” Vanderwood mumbled, more to himself than a genuine question.

“Yeah, it’s too bad,” Zen sighed, answering anyway.

“Whatever. Finish your walk and get your stuff so I can take you home. I’m going to look a little further first.”

Zen rolled his eyes as Vanderwood brushed past him, not bothering to even argue. Vanderwood would have to take him by force, now that he had convinced himself of Vanderwood’s potential role in your departure. But nervousness came upon him like a chill. He recalled the gun he pulled out, faster than he could blink, on Seven with him inbetween.

He didn’t consider the option that the man might _actually be able_ to take him by force.

He jogged in the opposite direction, already plotting to return to the cabin and tell Seven his thoughts and concerns on the issue before Vanderwood returned.

But Vanderwood didn’t return for three hours. Although Zen complained about it, Seven merely waved him off. He promised to speak with him whenever he showed up, and it wasn’t long before he was passed out on the couch, head lolled back as his laptop fell asleep in his lap.

Zen glared at the man when he finally returned, feet heavy, jacket in hand, and plenty of dirt and mountain debris on his person and in his hair to let Zen know he’d gone far deeper than intended.

“Your computer has been beeping every 10 minutes,” Zen half-laughed, half-muttered. He was annoyed and wanted Vanderwood to know it. “I suppose you’ve been tracking? You look disgusting.” Vanderwood rushed over to the table, tossing the jacket carelessly on the chair and not giving it a second glance as it slid off and to the floor. He brought the screen back to life, eyes pouring over the encryption program. He would start here. The tracks V left, although he only found them sparsely by scouring the surrounding area twice over, seemed to head in the very direction indicated by the program. He glanced over at the sleeping Seven, quickly memorized the coordinates, and slept the screen to continue running. He had work to do, both to continue the limited progress of the program and physically. A piece of twig fell onto his keyboard and he grimaced.

He _was_ disgusting. But should he take the leisure of a shower and rest before beginning another search for you? It felt wrong. But Vanderwood also knew a tired agent was a dead one. There was no reason to not rest other than his own jitters. If you were dead, you were dead. Whether he rested or not had no impact on that, other than the ease of returning your body to the city. He battled his desires versus his reasoning as he slowly started towards the shower.

“Your phone?” Zen called.

“What about it?” He mumbled back, not skipping a beat.

“It’s lit up, I can’t see the ID but I see the icon for a phone call?”

Vanderwood paused, then rushed back. It could be the boss for a new assignment. Although the last one had just ended, he had to remember his life was always on-call, even if he had terrorists to dismantle. He quickly inputted his ID and thumbprint to see the caller ID. His heart flipped. Now _this_ , he didn’t expect.

“…MC?” He breathed out. It just wasn’t possible, did they give you your phone back? Zen’s eyes lit up as he shot up from his chair. “What?”

Vanderwood ignored him, hands darting across his keyboard and bringing up the tracker. Nothing was there.

“H-hello…Yes, it’s me,” your voice was groggy but alive. God, you were _alive._

“Where are you?” He demanded, hoping his voice was as calm as he was pretending to be. There was always the possibility it wasn’t you at all, but a voice altering program. But that would be cruel, and it would destroy him.

You hesitated on the line, your quiet breathing doing nothing but making him ache.

“I’m going to continue gathering guests…the party will go on,” you said.

“I can’t do anything else,” you continued, in a more hushed tone.

Vanderwood has seen enough hostage situations to put the pieces together.

“I understand,” he answered with a swallow.

“MC? Are you OK?” Zen yelled from beside him.

Vanderwood doesn’t think, his hand is plastered across Zen’s lips before he can even tell him to shut up.

“Is there…anything else?” Vanderwood pushed a little louder as if to cover up Zen’s outburst.

Some shuffling occurred before your soft lyrics found their way into his ear again, a melody he plays out on a loop for the rest of the night.

“Don’t…come for me. I lov—,”

And then it’s over. The call has ended, the tracker never appeared, and his hand falls from Zen’s face.

“Was that really her?” Zen inquired, only concern displayed on his face despite the aggression Vanderwood had just displayed with his muddied hand. Vanderwood nodded.

“Is she alright? That was short, you didn’t even ask her if she’s OK!”

Vanderwood shook his head. He doesn’t have the energy to tell the man that it would have been a stupid question to ask and you were limited in your obviously controlled responses.

Instead, he challenged him with a focused stare. “You’re going to tell the rest of the RFA to continue to send her party guest candidates. The best ones you can find, if any of them fuck around with this or slack off I will personally kill them myself. You can tell them that, too, if they need the motivation.”

He doesn’t care to explain and finally excuses himself to the bathroom for a shower. Vanderwood doesn’t even know the water is getting cold as he stares into the cabin ceiling, his eyes searching for the God that Seven is always going on about. He doesn’t know his fist is bleeding after he punches the shower wall, and he doesn’t know that in a pink princess’ room, you’re crying his name as your kidnapper and a stranger strip you down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I switched things up juuuust a little bit, I hope you enjoy this new direction of writing style I'm doing. :)
> 
> It's all downhill from here har har har <3


	9. Day 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of Mint Eye, a day in the life of two partnered agents.

They forced you to shower the night before, which you would’ve had no problems with had Saeran not been in the same room to watch. You felt disgusting in his presence, each interaction with him like cockroaches feeling against your naked skin no matter what you were or weren’t wearing. Sometimes he looked like he’d chop off your neck where you were, other times like he’d bite it off instead. The woman ‘Believer’ that assisted him never really seemed to look at anything. She was obedient and quiet, her eyes seeming to stare through things rather than at them like a zombie. And beyond her, you couldn’t understand your new ‘home,’ something beautiful like out of a pink and fluffy fairytale while all your clothes were black and formal. You were dressed in a long, black dress that fit you perfectly. It terrified you that such a well-fitting dress had been waiting for you, and the dust you found in the place was just as unsettling. Even on the door handle (that wouldn’t open) you found the specks. Just how long had Saeran planned this? Did all the clothes in your closet fit you this well?

But you wouldn’t have a chance to find out just yet. Saeran had sent a Believer to request you wear this outfit today because you were to meet the person who ran this cult hellhole. You wondered what kind of monster they would look like. An image of a decrypted, corrupt pope came to mind. Would he have teeth? Would she be on the younger side? Would he laugh like an old friend? Would she scream? You weren’t sure what to expect of ‘Savior’ other than that you hated them.

You passed the time by gingerly touching your bandaged, probably broken nose and counting your bruises. Some were harder to see than others, some you were unsure were multiples or one, _big_ bruise. You hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten since the skewer half Saeran gave you, and after a sip of the first blue drink they tried to give you, didn’t trust them enough to drink either. They were trying to drug you and make you obedient like the woman who helped strip you, but you were not cooperating. Which was the main reason you were suffering.

You thought after being allowed to speak with Vanderwood you would feel better, but you felt the same numbing sadness as before. He was so to-the-point you weren’t sure if he even understood the gravity of your situation. Even if it was selfish, part of you wanted to hear the concern in his life, wanted him to tell you that he loved you and everything was going to be alright. With Saeren’s lips brushing against your earlobe, you had tried to follow his instruction of not mentioning anything about Mint Eye or Magenta. But there was no need for him to worry, seeing as Vanderwood didn’t press you on your location and simply accepted your words as they were. Sensing the conversation was ending, as Saeran pulled away from you to take the phone back, you tried to at least warn him or tell him you loved him. You weren’t sure if either message got across before Saeran hung up and was screaming at you and bruising you again for your disobedience.

Your new phone was similar, identical even to your last. But for you, you had only one working application. You could communicate with the RFA with the messenger app and nothing else, not even adjust the volume of incoming messages. Your keyboard was largely useless, only serving to type letters that brought up predefined reply options. It was like a videogame, you couldn’t tell anyone how you really felt beyond generic messages like “Wow!” and “Lol!” You didn’t allow yourself to be impressed with how many options Saeran had programmed for you, some of them taken from your usual pattern of speech. He had been studying you, and still you couldn’t ask for how long. Did you even want the answer to that question?

But you didn’t respond to any of the RFA, not a single message coming from you since you received the phone. The only thing you did was read and cry as you poured over Yoosung’s heartbreaking messages, asking you if you were upset with him and if you were OK. He had been begging for something, anything, at one point going so far as to talk about how similar this was to losing Rika. And even now, as the guilt riddled your fingers, you couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him. Which meant not messaging him back at all. You would do it eventually, you just needed time. Everything hurt, and everything was wrong.

 

You tensed as you lay on the bed when you heard the creak of the door open. Whenever you heard it, pain usually followed. You sprung up, wondering what expression the demented hacker had for you this time. But, once again, something brand new dropped your defenses. He looked absolutely miserable, one hand rubbing at his temple as he focused more on the floor than you. But even more shocking, his change of attire. The suit he had worn to meet you, giving him a positive first impression, was long gone, replaced by a loose-fitting black jacket, loose-fitting ripped red shirt, loose-fitting black pants, spiked bracelets, and a choker. Now, he finally matched what you thought of him—trouble and way too thin for his own good.

“It’s time, she’ll see you now,” he mumbled.

So Savior was a she.

You waited as he stood in the doorway, eyes fluttering open and close. “Follow me,” he muttered now. You began to move and he snapped his focus towards you. “And just follow.”

You understood the threat just fine and nodded. You’d tousled with him enough to know he was a skinny, atrophying mess, and with that description you thought you’d be able to take him. But Saeran had an unnatural amount of strength for his size, the crazed look in his eyes when he fought you making you begin to accept that whatever drug he was taking made him immune to your fists. He was high on a cloud and his body would destroy itself if it meant overpowering you. Your body, on the other hand, did not stretch its limits like his. But despite that, there were enough mindless Believers around that even if you did overpower him, would take you down before you were even able to escape the floor. It would be a pointless endeavor, and you needed to conserve your strength.

He left the door, you followed as instructed—several steps behind and eyes widening as you began to notice the intricate tattoo that seemed to be etched down his entire arm. If he actually ate and filled out his body, maybe the jacket would fit properly and you wouldn’t have seen it at all. You watched his hands claw into his white hair, and tried not to trip over your heeled shoes. Once again, they were perfectly sized but you were too nervous to walk straight in them. What was the purpose of this meeting and why did you need to dress up as a prisoner? Was meeting Savior a death sentence, the beginning of the end? Believers went still in the hallway, greeting Saeran with polite bows and whispered mentions of paradise while waiting for him to pass before continuing on. So he was a big shot here. Was it because of his hacking skills?

Abruptly, he stopped as you both began to descend steps at the end of the hallway. “Shit,” he growled. Saeran turned to face you, searching your eyes for a moment. The glint of insanity was temporarily gone. For now, he was focused. “Hey!” He yelled to no one in particular, making you jump. Three Believers rushed to where you both stood and waited for instruction. “Bring me something to blindfold her, hurry up.”

They scattered without another word and you suddenly felt very alone. Without your phone in hand, even if it was _his_ phone, you felt insecure. It was your connection to reality and without it, all you felt was the bubble of Magenta around you.

To be more accurate, the bubble with you and Saeran. Everything else was background noise to the way he focused on you, riled you up, and demanded things of you. To the Believers you didn’t exist, a pet on his leash.

“Hey,” he said, rather softly, his sunken eyes falling over your face but not meeting your own.

“What,” you muttered. You had begun getting in the habit of verbally responding, even when you weren’t sure it was necessary. Your voice, even in simple phrases or not exactly respectful, tended to make him less violent. You got the feeling he hated silence, or maybe he was raised to verbally respond to be polite.

“What exactly is your relationship with…Vanderwood?”

The question shocked you. You had only mentioned his name once, when the phone call with him hung up and you were sobbing. It had just slipped out, no other thoughts but him on your mind to drown out the pain Saeran had inflicted on you.

You stalled, starting with a faint “I…”

You considered what he was actually asking of you. Like always, you had to think of a way to answer him in a way that didn’t upset him.

“I stayed in his house when we left Seven’s home.”

But, you figured, he already knew that. He had scouted you out, knew exactly where you were the entire time. You figured the answer was safe enough.

Saeran’s eyes met yours for a brief moment, before he closed his eyes and rubbed his temple again.

“So why call his name, why make your phone call to him and not Seven?”

The usual edge to his voice was also gone, probably due to the headache he clearly had. Your hand balled into a fist. You couldn’t believe, even for a moment, you felt any semblance of sympathy for this man. You highly doubted you’d develop any sort of Stockholm Syndrome, and figured it must be because of his nearly identical appearance to Seven. Why did he even hate his brother? V hadn’t explained.

“You answer me when I speak!” He spat, eyebrows furrowed.

“I thought he’d understand the situation better,” you finally replied.

Saeran popped an eye open, suspicion clear in his gaze. He was fishing for something. But you weren’t going to elaborate. His fingers fell and stuffed themselves in his pockets. You could’ve sworn you saw his arms shiver.

One of the Believers returned alone, a silky pink fabric in hand, surely taken from your room. They timidly held it out for the frustrated man. “Tie her,” Saeran commanded, nodding in your direction and fingers moving in circles across his temple again.

The Believer complied and you sighed, allowing them to reach over and begin to blindfold you.

Then, you saw their face.

“You!”

Your arms shot out before the anger or surprise could even register.

It was the young man who had rung Vanderwood’s doorbell, who you opened the door for. He was pushed a step back, the surprise on his face quickly becoming the same, polite smile he had showed you from before. It disgusted you. Of course you hadn’t suspected him then, there was no trace of ill intent written anywhere on his features, even now as he donned a cult member robe.

Saeran said nothing, you glanced over to see him watching, curious. Your outburst meant nothing if it wasn’t directed at him, apparently.

“Welcome to Magenta,” the man greeted, before approaching you once more to begin tying the blindfold. You shrunk away.

“You scumbag, you scouted me out?” It was a question you knew the answer to, but you needed confirmation.

“Yes, I am a scouter. Please let me blindfold you for Mr. Saeran.” His peaceful expression faltered for just a moment as he added a second, “Please.”

Intentional or not, you got the picture. You lowered your head for him, but let your body language and gaze communicate how much you detested him for his role in your kidnapping. Snug enough, his hands fell away and a new, colder and boney one wormed its way through the gaps between your fingers. Like an unhappy couple, Saeran held your hand tightly while you kept your fingers flat and forward, uninviting. He didn’t comment on your hold, just tugged you forward as you began the trek to the Savior’s room.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

They had left that night with little argument. Zen stared down at his hands, debating with himself over his own courage. Was he doing this in your best interests, or his? He wouldn’t deny that he was afraid of Vanderwood, not anymore. The man had ceased asking things of him, switching to cold demands with the ever looming threat and promise of death evident in his speech and piercing glare. He didn’t know if the agent would actually tase or kill him, but the aura he gave off was murderous enough for uncertainty. However volatile and annoying Vanderwood had been before was nothing compared to what he was like now. Whatever this was, this energy that caked behind wherever he stepped, was not an act.

Perhaps he had been acting, and this was the real him.

At the very least, Vanderwood had promised to explain his ‘mission’ after he dropped Zen off at his home. With little choice, Zen agreed to wait. Whatever had happened in that phone call had broke something, and he didn’t want to get on his bad side to figure out what that entailed. Dropped off, Vanderwood lowered his voice and told Zen he was to personally go to every individual RFA member and update them. They were to continue using the messenger as normal, but not to pry into MC’s whereabouts lest she lose her access.

He had emphasized the last part with a firm grip on his shoulder. When it first happened, he thought it was a subconscious gesture, a betrayal of his stoic facade that hinted at his deep worry. Now, as he knocked on Yoosung’s door, he wondered if it had been a threat.

The bodyguard recognized Zen and let him through without question, which Zen was grateful for due to his current stress levels. The bright eyes of his younger friend eased some of his worry, but he knew he wasn’t hiding it when Yoosung’s expression fell. The guards read the atmosphere, folding their cards at the table they sat around before exiting to give them privacy.

“Zen, what happened?” Yoosung sulked, leading him to the table the guards had been gathered around. He felt like he was aching with the way he felt the very creases of his bones move as he sat down.  
  
“Jaehee’s been worried about you, you know. Why didn’t you call first?”  
  
Zen brought out his phone and started opening the RFA app to check her latest message. Yoosung sighed, continuing on as if he knew the answer.

“You couldn’t, could you? Did something happen to MC?”

Zen grimaced, but quickly it became something lighter as he saw Yoosung begin to curl up into himself. He didn’t come here to make Yoosung cry.

“Hey, hey, Yoosung it’s alright…” He shushed, pulling the standing man towards him.

“Ah, this is embarrassing,” Yoosung chuckled, wiping at his face desperately.

Zen couldn’t understand the emotional rollercoaster he was going through, but he tried his best to get the point lest he contribute to it. “Um, first…” Zen put his phone down, his eyes wandering over Yoosung’s figure to see where he had hidden his phone.

“Give me your phone?” he asked. Yoosung rushed back to his computer, coming back and offering his cell to Zen. Yoosung stared silently as Zen thanked him and turned both phones off. Vanderwood had requested that, too, although not without insulting Zen’s ‘archaic’ technology and saying his would be fine if left on.

“Ah, how do I start,” Zen mumbled now. This was the hard part.

“Well, where have you been, first of all. And why have you been so busy? And have you spoken with MC?”

“That’s three separate questions, not really a starting point.”

“Sorry,” Yoosung deflated. Zen gave him a small smile. This boy was naive with a big heart, and this news was going to crush him, which was why Zen chose him first. He needed to get the hardest one out of the way. He sighed and started at the beginning, when he woke up in a cold sweat.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

“You _what_?” Seven started, a yell lost in his cracking voice as Vanderwood explained the latest developments of the day regarding Zen. The younger agent nearly knocked over his laptop as he shot up on the couch, hands fumbling to put his glasses back on. Stumbling, he placed the laptop beside him and approached Vanderwood, attempting to look intimidating but failing as he tried to shake the sleep from his legs.

Vanderwood had expected this reaction, and simply waited for the repercussions. He had taken matters into his own hands, no longer consulting Seven on his wishes regarding the Mint Eye investigation now that you were so involved and he was uncooperative in gaining information since he wouldn’t probe V.

“Vanderwood, if Jumin or Jaehee finds out about this they’ll...Oh my god, when V finds out about this…” Seven couldn’t even muster the words to explain the look of fear, confusion, and _disappointment_ V would surely have after learning that his secret infiltration mission, one he was willing to give his life to protect, was being told by Zen to all of the RFA.

“He’ll what?” Vanderwood inquired, a poker face presented just for him. Seven studied his relaxed body language and curious eyes, but found nothing. He knew Vanderwood well enough that he could see through his expressions, but he wasn’t perfect. Vanderwood was good, very good, and he was proving it right now. Did the man really not have an ounce of guilt in his being for his crime? Did he not understand that what he did was a crime at all? All Seven found was solid, unfaltering determination.  
  
“He won’t be happy,” Seven whispered, trying to focus out his anger but finding nothing but gut-wrenching fear. “If any of them say anything, it could blow his entire cover!” He started getting louder, every word becoming real as it spat out. “I don’t know how long he’s been in this thing, but it’s been at least a few months. You could…” He hesitated. Seven didn’t want to imagine the possibility, but he had to consider it. “You could get him _killed_.” The risk of death teased Seven every time he saw V—in-between his eyesight, his health, and his scattered, cryptic thoughts, V was facing something that could be his undoing. V told Seven to trust him, so he had to give him his full support. He would never do anything that could potentially endanger him even further.  
  
Vanderwood sat down, none of this news doing anything to his plain face, which only upset Seven more. “Did you hear me? V’s like a father to me!” Finally, there it was. The anger he felt, overtaking the panic. And Vanderwood, still, did not react.

“Seven,” he stated, leaning over in his seat, the creak of the wood floors under his weight loud in Seven’s ears.

“Mary,” he chimed back.

“At this point we know whatever undercover he’s doing is directly related to Mint Eye. You’re not stupid, he’s in the mountains near the very location we’re looking for and is the head of the organization that’s being attacked.” Seven looked away, he knew. He knew for a while now.

“And V is not a trained agent. He is going blind. He is leaving behind easy-to-follow trails and not accepting the help of someone who sees him like a father who is one of the best minds in the world. Does any of this sound like a sane man to you?”

Seven glared at him. It was a rhetorical question, but he knew V. He knew why he was going blind and he knew V’s heart was always in the right place. Just because Vanderwood didn’t understand or know him didn’t make those facts any less true.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Another creak as Vanderwood leaned back.

“Don’t you dare,” Seven yelled, a fist balling as he thought of the ultimate insult Vanderwood was about to unleash.

But he continued on. “Rabbit Island Mission.”

Seven ran at him, grabbing and pulling him by his collar and only getting more furious when Vanderwood offered no resistance.

“You don’t know him like I do.”

Vanderwood didn’t know the torture he had undergone at his mother’s hands, the torture of leaving his brother behind to live a dangerous life he only endured for his very sake. He didn’t know how V and Rika had saved him as a child, giving him and his brother a light in a dark, small world his mother crafted until her untimely and sudden death. While Vanderwood saw small, old scars and assumed they were from training and first missions, Seven knew the truth. He remembered vividly who haunted him the most, one he called out to, begging to stop and who he called mother. V was the only reason those scars stopped, the only reason him or his brother were probably even alive.

“You just _think_ you know him,” Vanderwood corrected.

“Those people were sick and they needed help!” Seven shook him, begging for an apology, begging for a reaction at all that wasn’t stone cold indifference, that wasn’t _pity._ It wasn’t just about V anymore, Seven felt completely disregarded and disrespected. They verbally went to war, speaking over each other in increasingly louder voices as if the truth were just a decibel higher.

“Are you implying the people at Mint Eye don’t? Tell me, what progress has V had that you know of? How are you so sure that he isn’t the one—“

“—V would _never_ —”

“—the one running Mint Eye in the first place? Who else has a connection to the RFA, who else has actual mint eyes? Why—“

“—and you never take me seriously, you think you have all the answers, just talking out of your ass—”

 “—wouldn’t he want you to look into it, unless he thought you wouldn’t like what you found?”

Seven trembled with indignation, shaky hands wanting to drop his collar and strike him for his implications against his friend, his savior, his paternal figure, _him_. Instead, he hurt him the only way he knew how—the same way he was attacking him.

“You’re just obsessing over this girl because she gets your dick hard! You’ve lost your fucking mind and you’re taking it out on me and V. Since when do you give a shit about anything other than yourself huh? Notorious Lone Wolf Vanderwood, who can’t even remember the names of his squad mates at their own funerals?”

Vanderwood clenched two warning hands over Seven’s, his blank expression finally twisting into a scowl. Good, he was upsetting him.

“I don’t know, since they assigned me to the most disgusting hacker in the world and his idiot mint-haired friend? You should be thankful I’m helping at all and not reporting you for your involvement with the RFA you ungrateful coward!”

“You’d have to report yourself too since you’re so intent on fucking MC! Has it been that long since that Yoon’s breasts that you can’t thin—”

Enough. Vanderwood punched him—hard.

“Too far!” Vanderwood screamed at him as he sprang up from the chair that toppled over, crashing into the floor. His knuckles were sore from assaulting the bathroom wall last night and feeling newly ablaze after punching his best and only friend.

Seven spat out blood, stumbling upright and using his shirt to quickly wipe across his mouth. Vanderwood was in a fighting position. That was fine, considering Seven wanted to fight. And he didn’t care that he was going to fail. As far as he was concerned, Vanderwood had already lost. With a single punch, he had already broken three rules and crashed that cool, smug exterior he prided himself so much on.

Seven charged, right hook flexing and pointed towards his jaw. Vanderwood blocked easily, as he predicted, and he kneed upwards. But the older agent blocked that too, a warning shout of his name going ignored as Seven jumped into him, head clashing hard into his jaw. As predicted.

Vanderwood stumbled backwards, a hand cradling his injury and shock plastered across his face. As his eyes met Seven’s, it became malice. His hair seemed to stand on end as he bristled, a heavy step took in his direction. He’d probably start with his left arm and right leg, before jumping and kicking out towards him. It’d be hard to block and still hurt, but if…

Vanderwood jumped forward, sliding his leg under his, catching him by surprise and sweeping Seven onto his backside, where he caught himself with an arm. He rolled out of the way as Vanderwood’s other leg came crashing down, a small dent left where his boot landed. He sprung onto his knees, back to the couch and using it as a brace as another kick from Vanderwood landed flat on his chest. Seven took the knockback with a shout, locking his arms around the limb and twisting it, yanking Vanderwood down. He crashed to the floor on his side, the weight of the fall sounding like a crack of wood.

Seven pounced forward towards Vanderwood’s head as he let the leg go, only to be immediately caught in the neck with a twist and kick of the other leg. He fell onto his side with a grunt, hand flying to the injury as he wheezed for air. Even expecting to take some heavy hits didn’t prepare him for the ear-ringing, wrenching pain the single blow did on his focus and confidence. He felt like instant road kill and for a moment, wasn’t sure if he was already dead—if his windpipes were crushed as the air seemed to come in through a straw.

The thought was short-lived, as another kick from Vanderwood gutted him in the side and rolled him on his back. He breathed flames, the boot of the agent stomping towards him, then stopping right before it landed on his neck for what would’ve been the final time. Gently, it moved just below his Adam’s apple and pressed down. Seven tried to push the boot off, but the older combatant didn’t budge. After a couple tugs, he let go. The fight was over and he knew it. He focused on breathing and looked up at Vanderwood, but no anger burned in his brown eyes like he anticipated. Instead, the guilt and the regret he had originally wanted to see lived in his two bright pools. And now that he had it, Seven wasn’t sure if it was worth it or if he wanted it at all.

He’d never seen Vanderwood cry and wasn’t sure it was possible for him, but Seven imagined this was the closest he’d ever gotten in his presence. And they’d been together through more than one or two broken bones.

“Too far,” he repeated meekly.

Seven looked away, unable to handle the display of hurt he had purposely invoked. He knew it was too far, he didn’t need to verbalize it. Berating him with the untimely and tragic death of his previous partner should never have come out of his mouth, not even in the heat of the moment. Not even on his worst day, which this was.

Instead, Seven tried to explain himself with just as meek of a reply. “I love V.”

He accepted his guilt and looked up at him. A few beats of silence made the tension lessen, but neither moved.

“And I love her.”

Vanderwood’s boot began to lift off, then pressed forward once more to emphasize his next words.

“And I will do anything to save her.” Another press. “Anything.”

Vanderwood set him free, eyes cast downward, staring at the patterns of the wood floor and thinking nothing in particular.

Seven didn’t move, too emotionally and physically numb to bother.

In the hellish visions dancing across the floor, Vanderwood watched helplessly. Memories he usually ignored resurfaced from the cracks, taunting him for the brief seconds they appeared—A flash of lightning striking his squad’s car in the mountains, him able to do nothing but watch the survivors burn alive; chopping off the poisoned leg of the captain and hearing her cries, knowing she wouldn’t make it but trying anyway because she begged; being left for dead after an early, failed mission and having to kill sleeping wolf cubs for food; shooting a crying child bomber as he pleaded for help; tied to a chair as glass shards were thrust into his chest; Yoon smiling gently as her body parts fell apart like a badly stitched ragdoll in front of his eyes; and you, saying “Don’t come for me.”

They remained like this for what seemed like an hour, unspoken words caught in their throats as they sorted through their own, private thoughts and emotions.

As the stiffness of the floor began to hurt his back, Seven sat up and broke the silence first.

“When?”

Vanderwood didn’t answer, not hearing him until a louder, repeated, “When?”

He blinked, snapped out of the hellhole he was too deep in. Vanderwood awkwardly lowered himself to the floor, sitting across from Seven and finally looking in his direction. He stretched his legs, fingers tapping on his pants as he returned to his poker face to meet Seven’s eyes, thankful for the distraction.

“When what?”

“When did this…thing start with her?”

He could understand the curiosity and decided to play along. Vanderwood took a moment to answer, trying to separate the days that ran together.

“Pancakes.”

“When I…made you guys pancakes?”

“And ditched us in your house.”

“What happened?”

Vanderwood didn’t answer at first, wondering how to explain without going into detail. But a bashful Seven spoke first.

“You guys fucked in my house while I was gone?” A playful smile danced on Seven’s lips, interest plain and evident in his sparkling eyes, while Vanderwood remained stagnant.

“We didn’t have sex. But yes, we got a little physical.”

“Agent Vanderwood, tsk tsk,” Seven teased. “You don’t have to lie, my cameras will tell me exactly what happened you know.”

There it was, finally, an expression cracking through his stoic exterior. Was it fear? Shock?

“Don’t be a creep,” he mumbled, eyes darting away for a moment before finding their way back.

“What about when you guys slept together?” He pushed, the implication clear in his tone.

“It wasn’t like that,” Vanderwood barked.

“Then how exactly did you end up like that?” Seven mused, leaning forward.

Vanderwood sighed, his legs crossing over each other. “She was delirious. She wouldn’t go the hell to bed. I couldn’t just knock her out because of her stupid head injury so,” his words came faster now, frustration seeping out as he tried to defend himself and only making Seven’s grin widen. “She begged me to sing her a lullaby to sleep which _obviously_ wasn’t going to happen! Seriously!” He exclaimed now, raising an arm to emphasize how utterly ridiculous you were that first night with him. “She was even barking like a dog before that and trying to seduce me, she nearly drowned in your shower that second night you know. She fell asleep! She couldn’t do anything without me!

“Anyway, so instead of singing she asked me for a hug and was going on about freedom and leaving the agency or whatever. I was so annoyed that I just gave her what she wanted because she promised to finally stop fucking around. Before I knew it, she had fallen asleep in my arms and I was so exhausted from the day I just kind of…”

Seven nearly bit his tongue to hold back his bubbling glee as he watched Vanderwood’s eyes soften at his recounting of his precious memory of you.

“…fell asleep, too. What?”

Seven wanted to hide the smile on his face as Vanderwood scowled, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’d never seen this side of Vanderwood, and he unapologetically loved it.

“Sounds like love at first bark. Amazing, the notoriously cautious Vanderwood gets his heart snatched so easily! Aww,” he chuckled. “You thought she was cute, that’s why you agreed to babysit then, huh?”

Vanderwood sighed, finger tapping once more against his knee.

“Come on, tell me more,” Seven encouraged. He didn’t know he needed this, but he felt it now, a scorching desire for any detail he could possibly get in this rare encounter of openness.

Vanderwood scoffed, a small smile beginning to form at the corners of his lips as he gazed longingly up at the ceiling.

“Yeah…but I regretted it immediately as soon as the door closed. So I tried to intimidate her.”

Seven laughed and Vanderwood chuckled along with him.

“You _threatened_ the injured girl? Are you a tsundere?”

Vanderwood shrugged. “I don’t know what that word means, but no, it was not my best moment. But she was still so far gone that she kind of just ignored it and nearly fell down the stairs.”

Seven slapped his knee in a bout of laughter, resting his chin in both his hands. Vanderwood rubbed his neck.

“So…when did you realize you loved her then?” His voice softened, it was a more serious question.

Vanderwood made a ‘hmm’ noise, returning his gaze to Seven as he tried to find the first defining moment. With a snap of his fingers, and a wince from his injured knuckle, he recalled it.

“Um, actually, it was a bad time.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, uh, I kind of pushed her against a tree.”

Seven’s eyes widened. “Eh? I didn’t hear about this, a tree? Something kinky?”

“Well, uh…When you told us to leave your home, I noticed Gally and his people ambushing us.”

“Oh, yeah, but you didn’t tell me too much detail. I thought she just stayed in the car?”

“No, she…uh, took the gun from the glove box and tried to come help me. It was dark, I thought she was an enemy so I snuck up on her and pushed her into the dirt. I was ready to kill her but she was so soft and untrained that I used my taser’s light to see who the hell it was. I thought it was a random backpacker in the wrong place at the wrong time or something, but it was her.”

“Oh…wow,” Seven whistled. “But, wait, there’s no tree in that story?”

Vanderwood sighed, a red tinge forming in his cheeks.

“I couldn’t believe she would do something so stupid just for me, that she was completely untrained but willing to risk her life to try and help me in that situation. I wanted to kiss her so bad that I just aggressively pushed her into the tree before I stopped myself. It just…wasn’t the time.”

“Obviously,” Seven teased.

They laughed together, a comfortable silence forming between them. But Seven sighed, knowing he had to address the elephant in the room. Vanderwood studied his expression, waiting for whatever was coming.

“Hey, um,” Seven started, his smile faded to nothingness now. “I’m sorry about what I said. It was wrong, and I knew it. I deserved that punch.”

Vanderwood’s smile disappeared too. “As long as you know. I’m sorry about…this whole mess, really.”

Seven shook his head. “You’ve only looked out for me, just like V. I appreciate you always trying to be honest with me. What you said…makes sense. But you understand why I’m trusting him, right? It’s like if you were doing something strange but told me to trust you and not pry into it for my own good. I would listen.”

“But I have training and resources, what does V have?”

“He has his own resources, his heart, and my trust.”

Something clicked for Vanderwood, his expression soured. “What if he needs your help but can’t ask for it?”

He leaned in. “One of the last things she told me in that phone call was not to come for her.”

“…And you’re saying you have to go help her anyway.” Seven bit his cheek, the wheels turning.

“I’m saying if they’re in the same place and both not asking for help but clearly in need of it, that something’s at stake. That we have to help them without their knowledge. It’s hostage behavior.”

Seven’s eyes widened. “This is all about the party, yeah…But why?”

Vanderwood’s eyes turned steely. “It doesn’t matter.” He stood up and walked past Seven to his laptop. Seven pushed himself up and followed, watching him awaken his device and open up the familiar program.

“Vanderwood, you were decrypting the coordinates this whole time?” He scoffed.

“You weren’t complying, I intended to do this on my own,” he mumbled. He paused, then turned around to face him directly. “Seven, are you going to help me with this? Even if it’s against V? I have to know.”

Seven frowned, deciding to be honest with him just as he was. “I have to think about it. I’m sorry.”

Vanderwood nodded and got back to work, disappointed but not showing it.

He paused when he felt Seven’s hand on his shoulder. “What?”

“I’m proud of you, ya know. And congratulations.”

“Eh?”

“Well, you’re finally breaking some rules these days. And you’re getting married apparently, so…congratulations.”

He shrugged off his hand and continued with a soft, “Thanks.”

Good enough. Seven smiled and returned to his own laptop, plopping into the comfort of the couch cushions and wincing from the sharp pain of moving against the blows Vanderwood had dealt him. Despite how it started and how he currently felt, he couldn’t bring himself to regret his actions.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

You hated having your fingers around Saeran, but eventually your hand curled into him and you latched onto his shoulder because of all the outside twigs and rocks you ended up stepping over and all the stairs you took. A large garden, as Saeran had explained. You wondered if he was really taking you any place at all. This place couldn’t have been that big, and you had both ascended and descended multiple flights of stairs.

“We’re here,” he suddenly declared. His hand remained tight on yours, even when you started to pull away. You moved your other hand up to the blindfold but felt it pushed away. Fine.

“I have some rules,” he began, an unnatural softness to his voice that you weren’t sure was good or not.

“Savior is nice, but she…you’ll like her, you must be kind to her. If you do anything, try anything, I’ll…I’ll have to stop you.”

Shivers fell through your fingers, he tightened his grip. Was this remorse, uncertainty, irritation? You couldn’t figure him out.

“You have to be completely honest with her, she’ll know if you’re not.”

“Right.”

“She’s trying to help you, trying to help all of us. Alright?”

“Yes.”

“But do you understand?”

“No.”

“No?” Even though you said it so bluntly, his voice didn’t rise, you didn’t hear any anger.

“I don’t understand anything that’s going on. I don’t want to,” your voice cracked, “I don’t want to be here. I want to go home.”

You felt his hand brush gently over yours, as if to soothe you. You wanted to snatch it away, but you did nothing.

“You’ll figure it out. Just listen to her, be honest, and try to understand. Just know that it’s because of her you’re still alive.”

The hands removed themselves from you, the blindfold fell away. Saeran stood in front of you, his eyes just as soft as his voice had been. It was eerie. It was like he was a different person. But you couldn’t accept it, not with the pain of bruises all around your body and your nose. You knew enough, felt enough to never trust him.

You tore your eyes away from his to look at the pearly doors you both were standing in front of. Saeran took a deep breath and led you inside what could’ve been a royal banquet hall. Gold extravagance draped the tall windows like an ancient church, grandeur apparent in the fabrics on the walls and the long tables that could easily sit thirty people each. Red carpet led to the other end of the room, where a woman sat upon a throne covered in shade like a queen, with her two Believer knights standing at her side.

The queen stood up from the shadows of her chair and took a few steps down the small steps into the light, her long, blonde hair seeming to glow as the sunlight from the windows illuminated all of her. She was radiance, and you were stunned. She looked nothing like what you envisioned of a lunatic.

But as she began to smile, walking down the red carpet in your direction, her appearance became clear. You didn’t recognize her without that cheery, bright smile you’d seen in all her pictures. You wanted to run, and you even began to turn before Saeran took a step to block you. You turned back around, frozen in your own anxiety.

“My Savior,” Saeran said, returning to your side and bowing as she approached.

“Saeran, excellent work today. You are working so hard to fix all your failures, I am almost proud.”

You cringed, watching the way his face lit up with the compliment, as if the simple words, even as back-handed as they were, meant the entire world to him.

“Yes, my Savior. Here is MC, as you requested.”

“Yes, I see.” Her eyes glistened as she peered over your figure like a child approaching a wonder of the world. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away, but found the courage to at least ask the question.

“Are you Rika?”

You felt dumb for asking, as soon as if left your mouth you wondered how you sounded. This woman bore a striking resemblance, but come on…The fiancée of V, who ran a highly regarded charity before her suicide and known to be beautiful and kind, ran a vicious cult? That would be incredulous. No, Rika was completely different. She was supposed to be all smiles, with long blonde hair, a spark of light that shone like the sun as everyone orbited around her.

You glanced at the way the knights and Saeran waited for her commands, her comments.

Shit.

No wonder V didn’t want anyone to know.

“Yes,” she answered, her child-like eyes clouding over to reveal a much colder, serious woman.

“But…”

She shook her head, you were inclined to close your mouth.

“Yes, I’m alive. My dying was V’s idea, he wanted to get rid of me. But as you can see, I am very much here. Do you know why you’re here? Where you are?”

“My Savior, she doesn’t know a—“

“I was not speaking to you, Saeran. Please, leave us,” she commanded, eyes not parting yours even when you looked to your side at Saeran. He grit his teeth and bowed, eyes lowered to the floor.

“Yes, my Savior. For paradise,” he mumbled. Your gaze followed him to the door, where his head looked in your direction for a moment before disappearing. Despite everything, despite _everything_ he did to you, you felt uncomfortable with his prompt exist. Yes, he was a big shot, but he was nothing when he was in the same room with Rika. What kind of damage could she do, you wondered. You returned your attention to her.

“This place is called Magenta. We are all believers of Mint Eye, an organization to help lost souls find some place to belong. And you will be joining us.”

_Like hell I will._

“You are here because of a series of unfortunate events. You were supposed to be the RFA’s party coordinator in the comforts of the apartment and live a normal life, but because of the,” she paused as she found the correct word, “Accident, you were bounced around. We would have left you be since you intended to continue the party, but the accident has caused too much chaos in the city. You would have been found, interrogated, and eventually led to the exposure and demise of Mint Eye. So you will stay here with us, where we can protect you.”

You didn’t believe a word coming out of her mouth. Trying to kill you was not an accident. And you were kidnapped for your own protection? Get real, she only wanted to keep her cult in obscurity. You were just thankful you decided to continue the party. According to her, that decision was the only reason a second assassination attempt was not carried out.

“Um, OK,” you ended up saying.

“This is a lot to take in, you probably find what I’m saying hard to believe.”

_Duh._

“I want to explain things to you thoroughly and show you Magenta, so that you may consider joining us willingly. I want you to be happy here, too.”

You held back the urge to tell her she was insane and that you were not interested, explanation and tour or not.

“What did you do to V?”

She sighed, a flash or irritation dissipating to a friendly, sympathetic smile. “V? V is maybe the most lost of us all. I am helping him the best I can.”

“By blinding him?”

Her expression didn’t change. “It was his choice, his decision. He believes he is proving a point by allowing himself to be blinded.”

“Allowing?”

“Yes, of course. V thinks by allowing himself to be tortured, he is showing his form of unconditional love to be true. He is wrong, and so we continue this game.”

“That’s…”

“I know. As I said, he is a lost soul, he will understand eventually.”

You weren’t sure if any of what she was saying was true, but the fact remained that V was ‘undercover’ and allowing himself to be blinded, whatever the motivation. You decided they both have issues to deal with. But you made sure not to mention the undercover part, unsure what Rika believed of his participation in Mint Eye.

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask about Saeran,” she commented when you didn’t reply.

“Why would I,” you said firmly.

“He’s spent so much time with you, and he’s Seven’s twin brother. I thought you might have questions.”

“I don’t want to know about that demon,” you seethed.

“Yes, I see he’s done much work on you. Are you in pain?” She reached for your nose, you flinched back.

“Don’t,” you half-warned, half-pleaded.

Her hand fell back to her side.

“I apologize for his aggression, he doesn’t know how to control his emotions very well. It’s an unfortunate side effect, but it will get better.”

“Side effect?”

“Yes,” she hummed. “Of what he’s gone through. But I hope you’ll understand this is a much better version of him. He, too, used to be a lost soul before I saved him. Under my care is how he became such a proficient hacker. Now, he has purpose and fulfillment.”

“I thought you said everyone here was happy.”

“Of course he’s happy. Happiness is a cycle of pain, to achieve happiness sometimes he has to go through pain,” she answered, stiffly.

_Liar._

“Consider, you went through pain at the apartment,” she continued. “And through it, you found happiness with the RFA and Mr. Vanderwood, right?”

“What?” It was a genuine question.

“You have feelings for Luciel’s colleague, Vanderwood, right? Saeran told me how you cried his name. He was very,” she hesitated, “concerned. He’s already begun research on him.”

Fear returned to your senses. Research? On Vanderwood? Would Saeran actually be able to hack and figure out who he was? The thought that such a simple event of saying his name would put him in danger scared you, you wished you hadn’t called him at all.

“No,” you lied.

“I see,” she murmured. “No matter. I believe we will be able to have him join us if he’s competent enough to be paired with Luciel.”

You stopped yourself from screaming out a ‘no.’ You couldn’t get sucked in, couldn’t fall for her games. You decided to stay silent, and hope she wouldn’t be able to see you sweat. Rika stared at you, then shook her head.

“B317,” she suddenly called. The knight to her right suddenly stood to attention.

“I believe, after my evaluation, that our newest Believer will need a full cleansing ceremony. She has no intention of being honest with anyone or herself, so please ask Saeran to prepare a deep mint batch.”

Shit.

The Believer took off past you to the doors with a quick, “Yes, my Savior!”

“W-wait,” you started. “What about the tour? And more explanation? I don’t think we need to rush,” you stammered.

The expression she gave you could only be pity. “You will be given a full tour and robe after your ceremony. But don’t worry, it will wait until the party. There’s no point in starting now and jeopardizing your participation as party coordinator since we don’t know how your body will react.”

So she wasn’t going to give you anyway leeway, her mind was made up. You couldn’t figure out where you went wrong, and lips fell silent as she nodded at you.

“It was nice to meet you, I hope we become good friends. Escort her back to her room, please.”

You watched the back of her robe as she strolled over the red carpet to return to the throne.

“Yes, my Savior. For paradise,” the second Believer confirmed, pushing you towards the door.

You said nothing as Rika sat upon her throne and the door slammed shut in front of you, and you said nothing once more as your bedroom door shut and locked behind you.

You kicked off your shoes and ran for your bedside where the phone was. You paused before picking it up. Someone had been in here, this wasn’t where you had left it.

You decided it didn’t matter, there was nothing you could do about it.

You opened the phone back up to a pop-up from Saeran. You didn’t need the message after your encounter with Rika, but you found yourself appreciating it anyway.

“If you want to live, gather the guests. Text me your questions—don’t call.”

You returned to the RFA app, and frowned when you saw no new, concerned messages from the members. Instead, only guest recommendations and several new guest emails. They had been working hard recently, you figured it was because the party was right around the corner.

You sighed.

This cult was never going to let you actually attend, you weren’t sure how you’d tell them that you weren’t going to show up to the party. And you weren’t sure if you could forgive yourself for dooming every guest you approved—what did Mint Eye plan on doing with the RFA party?

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

Vanderwood picked up the third call, hidden amongst trees as the sky began to darken. Heavy with his bulletproof vest under his clothes, he ducked low amidst bushes.

His earpiece buzzed to life in his eardrum, the frantic voice of Seven causing him to turn the volume down.

“Vanderwood, come back, let’s figure this out together. You know it’s a trap, if I lose you I don’t know how I’m going to…I don’t know if I _can_ do this without you.”

“You should’ve considered that before,” he muttered, taking out his night vision glasses from his deep pockets.

“I’m sorry, OK? I decided…I decided to help you, but only because I don’t really have a choice anymore.”

“Sure you do.”

“I don’t~ Mary~,” his voice pitch went higher, teasing and pleading with him. “Please, come back~ I’ll make you pancakes and won’t disappear this time, I promise~”

“Lying already? I know we don’t have the materials for pancakes in that cabin.”

Seven’s voice sighed out, returning to his normal volume. “It’s a fake tracker, I’m sure of it. They’re luring you there on purpose, and you’re alone. This can only go bad!”

Vanderwood knew that already. He answered with silence as he strapped on the glasses and continued forward. Seven watched as Vanderwood’s tracker began to move again, headed in the direction of yours that had suddenly appeared.

“This is the most _not_ cautious thing you’re ever done!” Said an exasperated Seven.

“If you don’t have any new information, we should disconnect,” he retorted.

He listened to rustling on the line, scanning the terrain as he suddenly changed directions, snapping off a branch near him and covering his tracks.

“Alright,” Seven finally said, his voice clear and serious. “If anything or anyone comes up, turn your piece back on so I can hear. If I find anything, I’ll tell you immediately. Calibrate your watch to check up with me every 25. If 30 passes I’ll assume the worst.”

“Understood.”

“Um…good luck.”

Vanderwood turned the flow off, the buzz of the earpiece going silent. He calibrated his watch for 25 minute intervals and took a deep breath.

He didn’t care what kind of trap it was, he was going to gain information either way. Whoever was trying to lure him here didn’t understand that Vanderwood was trained, experienced, and would not hesitate to kill. But most importantly, they didn’t understand that he would do anything— _anything_ —to get you back. He prayed for Seven’s sake and their relationship that V wasn’t involved. Because then he would have to kill him, too.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

Saeran’s head felt like it was being split open slowly and carefully by an axe. He drank another cup of coffee, unsure of the last time he slept. It had been a few days for sure. He hadn’t closed his eyes while he plotted out the details of your kidnapping for those couple, restless nights while he also battled Seven in the extensive hacking game. He was exhausted, one of the few emotions he actually felt.

Along with anxiousness.

It came back, rushing against him like an electrified wave when he saw his phone light up. He hadn’t expected you to send him a message so soon. Was there a glitch in his program? It wasn’t possible, so you must have a question for him.

“What is deep mint?”

He nearly spit out his coffee. The Believer who had dropped by told him to make a batch, he didn’t say it was for _you_. He felt a small sense of panic and stared at the message, unsure if he should even answer it at all. You were only supposed to ask him questions regarding the party and the phone.

He took his time typing out a reply, deleting it over and over as he tried to gather his scattered thoughts.

“It’s our strongest elixir. Keep your questions related to the party or the phone from now on.” He sent it, satisfied. Surely you wouldn’t message him again. Saeran had been generous, he wouldn’t answer any more unrelated questions, he had too much work to do.

It wasn’t even a full minute before the phone lit up again.

“What’s going to happen at the party then?”

Well, technically that was related to the party, right?

He hesitated, typing out and deleting a response once more. He checked the clock, ten minutes had passed. Shit. He couldn’t keep doing this.

“We’ll all go to paradise. No more questions unless you’re having a problem.”

He breathed out a sigh. That was more specific, you wouldn’t be able to circumvent this time.

The phone lit up again, only seconds later.

“Why do you hate your brother?”

Well, unless you just ignored the request outright. He didn’t answer, you would get the message. Instead, he stared at his dozens of screens, sipping on cold coffee and eyeing the tracker he had set up in the forest. There had been no new words from the Believers stationed there, but he didn’t mind it. It was an obvious trap and he didn’t expect anything to come of it. If anyone showed up to investigate, it would probably be due to desperation and they would easily capture them. He was a strategist, planning for all avenues. Savior had requested him to.

The phone lit up again, messages coming in back-to-back. He grimaced but found himself checking it immediately.

“How long have you been following me?”

_None of your business._

“Why me?”

_It just worked out that way._

“Why do you hate me?”

He paused. The question angered him, but he didn’t know why. Not even asking about his brother had elicited any emotion. What was your deal? Why wouldn’t you do your job? He felt the urge to rush to your room, to punish you for blatantly ignoring his texted orders. How many bruises would it take for you to listen to him? You obviously weren’t very good at following directions, should he take pity on you? You wouldn’t last here unless he disciplined you. If only you knew he was doing you a favor—if Savior disciplined you, you would understand how _merciful_ he was. It was your fault for angering Savior, it was _your_ fault you would be given a deep mint elixir. Would you even live a full cleansing plus the elixir? Stupid, _stupid_ girl.

He rubbed at his head, the pain of the axe in his skull reigniting a painful burn and the itch that he couldn’t scratch at.

He sprang up from his seat, downing the rest of the disgusting liquid and wiping it off his mouth with his sleeve. Yes, he would have to punish you—for your sake. He stomped out of the room, leaving behind his phone right as it began to beep.

Someone was approaching the trap.

Another beep.

A Believer was down.

Another beep.

Two Believers down.

Another beep.

A confirmed casualty, another Believer down.

Another beep.

The subject was apprehended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting near the end! Only two more days! Oh shit! What's happening?! What do YOU think will happen?
> 
> You're getting this chapter early, hope you enjoyed it :) Forgive me, for the next one won't come out this quickly!


	10. Day 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderwood is 'caught' by Mint Eye, the party is tomorrow, and Saeran is fairly upset about both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> -More violence :D  
> -More Saeran threats of non-con D:  
> -Implied threats of suicide

The smell wasn’t strong enough yet. An occasional whiff still made her want to vomit, but it was because of where it was coming from, not the stench. Believer C400 had barely eaten, resigning herself to the Cold Room, despite the suggestion (and insistence) not to go. But she couldn’t be anywhere else, could hardly bring her eyes to a close before they sprung open again, afraid of what might happen if she rendered herself defenseless. She waited for hours, even briefly leaving to retrieve a chair. Sometimes she cried, mostly she stared, pondering.

Why was she spared?

She recalls the ironically raw lack of emotion she felt as the barrel of the gun first poked her nose. The man who held it could’ve been Death himself, a ghost that appeared from the shadows of the night to prod her with his ice-cold and steel scythe. His eyes glowed with the golden truth of the future, the only thing separating her from the afterlife—her soul attached merely by a whim. She thought about asking him, but it would’ve been overstepping. Did it even matter why? Maybe it was random. Even so, it haunted her imaginations, even more than the dead Believer beside her.

“Please don’t kill me, I don’t want to die,” she had sobbed, on her back with her bloodied hands instinctively covering her face. Believer C409 lay next to her, a bullet between his eyes, a merciful and calculated death. It had happened so fast, that when she tried to give him mouth-to-mouth, his lips were still burning hot.

She had been so stunned, so out of her mind that she didn’t register that mouth-to-mouth doesn’t help bullet wounds, and that there was no help she could provide for those already dead.

But Death didn’t kill her and he didn’t respond to her plea as he pulled her off the ground. He had gotten close to her face, and she began to choke as she dangled in the air. Her hands flailed at his, but the bones of Death’s arms were stronger than her whimpers and un-manicured, tiny fingers. When the remaining Believers tackled him and Believer C402 pointed her gun, he had gone quietly.

Something about it felt wrong. The man made a scene, easily surprised and overtook them, so why did he throw it all away? She returned to base with everyone and was relieved of her duties, but she couldn’t stand still even now. She stared at the bag they had placed C409 in as the corpse lay on the table and couldn’t help but think she should be dead, too. Was it because she had simply asked Death to be left alive?

But that couldn’t be true, so had C409.

She needed answers, but maybe she needed elixir more to numb the thoughts. She waited at his side in the cold, empty room, waiting for Savior. According to the rumors, this was the third death at Mint Eye. She never considered this place dangerous, but she was having second thoughts.

Should she take her chances, go back home? No, this _was_ home. She had nowhere else to go, this was the only place that promised to love and accept her. She couldn’t turn her back on Savior, not after all she had done for her.

The door creaked open, a guarding Believer entered first and stood to the side as Savior entered behind her. Savior had sorrow on her face, her hands clasped together as her angelic features turned to look around the room and land on her. Believer C400 teared up instantly, relief flooding her eyes. How could she have even considering trying to leave Mint Eye? She didn’t deserve salvation.

“M-my Savior,” she began sobbing, falling out of her chair when she attempted to get up and bow.

“Up, my child. I’m sure you’re in pain. I’m so sorry this happened,” Savior sighed, extending an arm to C400. She looked up to her, shakily accepting the assistance and standing up, warmth replacing the fear she had so tightly held onto before. In her hands, the world made sense again.

“My child, please, tell me what happened from your point of view,” she requested, her voice the gentle keys of a quiet piano. But Believer C400 had no choice, all words from Savior were commands no matter how pleasant and calming they sounded.

She took a deep breath and wiped at her eyes with her robe’s cold and damp sleeves. She told her everything about what happened last night, how they were not ready for how the man had circumvented their cameras and altered their escape routes, having cut their easy-escape ladders they put in the tall trees and placing their animal traps around their hiding spots. It was supposed to be an easy mission, one that Mr. Saeran had helped plan out with the safety of having weapons. But in the end, they were completely overwhelmed and underprepared.

“And how do you feel about Mint Eye?” She asked next. C400 was shocked, not expecting Savior to question her faith.

“I would do anything for Mint Eye,” she sputtered out. She glanced back at the figure on the table. “I would…I would die for you, Savior.”

Savior patted her hand and nodded. Relief, once again, warmed her core. She was so fixed on her green, loving eyes that she forgot to tell her how she was concerned about their abrupt capture of Death, and how maybe they were walking into a trap of their own.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

After 25 minutes had passed, Seven hesitated to disconnect the communicator entirely. Vanderwood, wherever he was, was indeed on his own. The trained agent in him accepted with cold indifference that Vanderwood was gone, possibly even dead. There was no point in mulling over the possibilities, instead, he made himself productive.

But then he heard the voices—screams, yelling, crying, begging.

And then it was muffled.

At that point, 40 minutes in, Seven understood the plan completely. He had left the communicator on, hunched over and listening intently. His hands sandwiched the headphones, the volume maxed out and the heat sweating his ears. His laptop had recorded it all, every breath the woman took and every meter of movement the woman who the communicator had been pocketed to made.

It was a legitimate strategy, but not one Vanderwood had ever made before for the same reason he avoided any situation involving giving up his weapon—because it made him defenseless and at mercy. In the years Seven had known Vanderwood, defenseless and merciful had never come up.

He must really love you.

He waited throughout the night, several cans of PhD Pepper and mugs of coffee gone as the woman never labored her breaths. She had stayed awake throughout the night, sometimes muttering to herself but never resting. She was shivering, and frightened. She had survived an encounter with Vanderwood, so Seven didn’t blame her. But more importantly, she had let him straight to Mint Eye. Now, the sound wasn’t as clear and the tracker went in-and-out, but it didn’t matter. He had something approximate, V’s encrypted coordinates aside. Now, they were nearly decrypted, but it was one less thing to worry about. He felt guilt, but pushed it aside knowing V would understand.

He would prove Vanderwood wrong about V’s secrets, if he didn’t get him killed in there of course. Magenta seemed to have many people, there was no way Vanderwood would be able to take them all, a prisoner with no weapons. Seven figured V might be able to help, maybe sneak and get him a weapon or out of whatever situation he was in. There was so much information he needed, but didn’t have now that things were unraveling quicker than his hacking progress. The hacker had briefly stopped attacking around the same time Vanderwood was captured, and even now was fractured.

Seven cursed himself.

Even against a fractured demon, he was hardly keeping up.

He was a failure, completely out of his league when he was supposed to be the pinnacle. He would have to ask Vanderwood who the mysterious hacker was after this was all over, Seven was dying to know. And, if he was lucky, would be able to ask him questions about how the hell he got so good and what his inhuman motivation was.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

“You’re joking,” Jumin said, amused despite the severity of the situation.

Zen put a finger to his lips, shushing him. But a grin split around his fingers, he lowered his head near Jumin’s with a delicate voice. “I’m not joking, Mary Vanderwood is a man. Like, maybe even bulky. His outfit is too feminine for my tastes and his face is a little pretty, but I’m telling you he’s the furthest thing from a woman.”

Jumin couldn’t believe it, not really. This whole time, Seven’s maid was a man and a spy?

When Zen first texted him the day you went missing, he didn’t understand what he was saying, assuming he was making some sort of offensive commoner joke. But now, as they prepared the venue for the party tomorrow, Zen reiterated that he was—in-fact— _not_ joking.

“Ahem,” Jaehee coughed, beginning to get annoyed at this back-and-forth the two supposed mature men were having. Once again, she was doing most of the work.

“Sorry, Jaehee,” he sung, strolling away from the businessman and flashing her an apologetic smile.

She forgave him instantly.

“Remember why we’re doing this,” she chirped. The charity was a passion of hers, she wanted to give back. But now, the success of it was a matter of life or death. It gave the affair a whole new pressure she never would’ve willingly signed up for.

Zen’s face deflated, Jumin silently returned his gaze to his clipboard.

The bodyguards sometimes helped, but there was always someone checking everyone who walked through the venue’s doors. It didn’t matter if they were there to deliver food or lighting, it didn’t matter if they had entered just 30 minutes before, their possessions and IDs were checked again.

It was tiring for everyone, especially the RFA members who needed to move quickly and efficiently. But at least this way, no one else got kidnapped. Zen especially felt the full protection of the men and women, who watched him the closest.

Apparently, they had not taken kindly to being tricked when Zen escaped them. He had apologized, but they simply told him it was a failure on their part for letting him out of their sights.

And it wouldn’t happen again.

Jumin paused to check his phone.

As usual, no new messages from you, just an update from Luciel to remain on standby. He had the general location of Magenta ready to send a team of professionals to, but instead he was looking at the itinerary and cakes. It felt wrong, but he trusted Luciel. Since he had risked sending him the messages by hacking his secondary work email, this was the least he could do.

Now, if only V would contact him. Did V know that he knew, now? It stressed him out. Not only was V involved in something so dangerous, he hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him about it. He hoped he was alright. The situation couldn’t possibly be more confusing or get worse. Of course, unless he failed to make this party a success. Apparently that was very important. He shook his head and concentrated on what his new demands and instructions would be.

Yes, this is how he would help V, and how he would rescue you.

Although Jaehee didn’t show it, she was just as worried. She peeked at how Mr. Han shook his head as if that would help him figure out his paperwork. She figured he was worried about V, but she couldn’t find a way to console him. How could one in this situation? He probably wouldn’t find comfort in her words, anyway. So instead, she remained the diligent one—the focused one.

They relied on her to continue pushing everything forward, a constantly moving force in a world where time itself didn’t make sense anymore. Just a week ago, there were no party plans and no coordinator, and now they were throwing one to save your life after Rika’s apartment _exploded_ and you were _kidnapped._

She couldn’t explain her emotions if she wanted to. In that sense, she wished she were like Yoosung. He hadn’t shown up once, calling her to briefly and vaguely say he had something to do to ‘help in his own way.’ She didn’t press him on it because she couldn’t—not with the hacker probably able to listen to their calls, too. She instead worried about the mysterious Vanderwood’s threat about everyone contributing, and if he would actually follow through on it. For Yoosung’s sake, she hoped he wouldn’t.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

“Saeran, please leave us,” she sighed after the fifth grunt. The Believer standing at the door moved, ready to open it.

He stopped pacing, eyes widening in shock and quickly reverting back to unbridled, mint-colored anger.

“But Savior! He, he needs to be _punished_!” He was screaming, fingers red from the blood he had drawn from ripping his hair and punching the agent who had said nothing since he was first captured. Dressed in only his pants and undershirt, every fresh mark was visible on his arms, neck, and face. Cuts where Saeran’s blade had struck him bled down his shirt and on the chair he was bound to with heavy rope.

“He won’t talk unless we _make_ him, I-I can make him!” He wheezed, eyes bulging as he poured over the stoic man who hadn’t as much grunted in pain even when he used the taser they had found on him. To say Saeran was annoyed and angry would be an understatement.

He hated him, that much was certain. This had to be Vanderwood, the man you had cried out to, but his brief research confirmed nothing about who he really was. He had only found his normal, everyday purchases and residence. He was clean, _too_ clean. Whatever organization he was with had crafted an identity, and he wasn’t sure where to start finding the core of it. He would need time—a lot of time, to dig into the man’s real history.

“Are you making me repeat myself? You’re disappointing me, Saeran.”

The anger didn’t completely subside, but the hurt he felt overtook it. He teared up and bolted for the now-open door, slamming it behind him.

Vanderwood watched it close, then turned his head to the small, blonde woman who was eyeing him.

“So I’m taking it V is your conspirator in this cult?”

Her eyes widened, surprised to hear him speak, but quickly returned to their curious stare.

“So you are willing to speak, then,” Rika mused. “That makes things easier.”

Vanderwood didn’t comment. Of course he was willing to speak if it meant he would be gaining information. Saeran, Seven’s twin brother, wasn’t going to give him anything useful. All the young man did was scream. Whatever Seven had thought of his brother’s safety was wrong, which means V had lied about it. And since Rika was supposed to be dead, that meant he lied about her, too. The easiest assumption for him to make was that V ran this entire operation from the outside, while Rika ran it from the inside.

“V works for me, we are not equals,” she corrected.

Well that’s surprising. And unlikely.

“And just to confirm, you are Luciel’s colleague, Vanderwood?”

He said nothing, enduring the staring game.

“We already believe you are Vanderwood, all you can do is deny it,” she continued with a softer tone, trying to appeal to him with logic.

There was no reason for him to, he said nothing. Her gentle mannerisms meant nothing to him, he’d seen all types. The devil with an angel’s face was, in his opinion, the cruelest.

Her questions continued.

“I assume you are here to rescue MC and failed?”

Silence and no reaction. Rika smiled brightly, as if she had stumbled upon a cute secret from a friend.

“Would it matter if I told you she’s no longer living and one of our own has been communicating with the party guests?”

Nothing. Seconds passed before her polite exterior crumbled—violently and sudden.

“Then you did not love her. It doesn’t matter, because she loved you, and you will serve us as an asset and a motivation! Enjoy your time here in Mint Eye, Mr. Vanderwood.” She spun on her heel, the ‘conversation’ done.

The stationed Believer opened the door for her and she paused upon seeing Saeran in the doorway, cheeks still wet.

“Do with him as you will,” she stated, glancing back at Vanderwood before brushing past Saeran. “If he says anything useful, let me know. Apparently, even mentioning MC does not disturb him.” The Believer followed her and Saeran gingerly stepped into the room. The door fell slowly behind him and he kicked it close.

He crossed his arms, remaining still on the other side of the room. Vanderwood ignored him, closing his eyes in the silence. If Saeran wasn’t planning to torture him anymore, there was no reason he shouldn’t rest.

“So you don’t love her?” He croaked.

He knew Vanderwood would continue saying nothing if he hit him, so he tried a different method. Savior had probably just said you were in their hands, but Saeran could go much, _much_ further.

As he approached, Vanderwood opened his eyes. Saeran smirked down at him, and Vanderwood glanced to his hands to see he had no weapon. Back to punching, kicking maybe? He could take it—the man was scrawny, maybe even half his brother’s size. It was pathetic, the man was wasting away here and Vanderwood had already decided not to kill him upon seeing him and Rika together the first time. Saeran was clearly not in control, hanging on to Rika’s every instruction and obeying her like a scared dog. He was supposed to be in her care, she had done something horrible to him. The boy was clearly mentally unstable, shaking with the sunken eyes of that one did not create through natural means. If he hadn’t been prepared by Zen’s ‘dream,’ he wouldn’t have even considered that he was Seven’s twin at all with the way his voice rose and fell and his white hair. But if he had acted the part, had dressed the part, he could understand why you were mistaken.

He tried to forgive him for kidnapping you for Seven’s sake. He would get you back, and Saeran would go to a mental health facility where he belonged. Vanderwood tried to care about him at all for his attachment to Seven, but still couldn’t find the pity he was seeking in his heart. He knew, if he had to, he would still choose you over Saeran. But he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

“You know, MC doesn’t like you like you think,” Saeran started, his grin widening as Vanderwood gave him his attention.

“Sure, she said your name, but…she said mine, too,” he laughed, a clear bitterness to his tone. Vanderwood wondered where he was going with this. Nothing he could say was going to break him. He knew you were alive, betting that it was important to keep you alive at this point in the party preparations. After all they’d done, they wouldn’t risk a cancellation and probably needed you for leverage. In his case, he was betting on them knowing who he was. He was valuable, at the very least a hostage for Seven, their current biggest enemy.

“You know,” Saeran continued, a sing in his voice, “She tastes much better when she’s clean. Have you seen her naked? I have.”

So this was the game. Vanderwood tried to imagine Saeran as Seven so he wouldn’t feel the urge to snap his neck—although, that was a recent development. But even with the mental picture, Seven saying these things was still annoying. Instead, he reminded himself none of Saeran’s words were true and the goal was to get him to react, to talk about his mission here. He could do it. He’d been through far worse interrogations than this.

“I bet you want to see her, huh? You can’t, so I might go pay her a visit right now. She’s probably lonely, waiting for me to visit her again. She loves my visits, she’s even started letting me lick her. After I broke her nose, she resists a lot less. I think she likes it. I think she likes me after everything I’ve done, isn’t that funny?”

Saeran began pacing around him, a fair intimidation tactic. Vanderwood ignored him, staring straight ahead and wondering where they were keeping you. Once he was ready and alone, he’d leave this room.

“Maybe you’re not saying anything cause you haven’t seen her naked yet. That sucks, her cups are so-o beautiful.”

He stood in front of Vanderwood again, stomping to steal his attention again and lewdly motioning your cup size. Vanderwood bit the inside of his cheek, the size he was motioning was accurate. How childish—anyone could guess someone’s breast size if they simply looked at them, clothes on or not. And besides, there was no way he had actually done the things he was talking about, right?

“Maybe I’ll have her tonight, and take a picture,” Saeran suggested, voice rising and spitting at Vanderwood. “I bet you’d like a picture, right? Did you see her panties? So expensive, so cute! Did you get them for her? The leopard print ones, she stripped them nic-e and slow for me!”

Heat was beginning to rise in him. Those were the pair you were wearing the day you left—but him knowing that didn’t prove anything. No, what he was saying couldn’t be true. Vanderwood reminded himself to stay calm. Saeran was unstable, he’d say anything to get a rise out of him and he wouldn’t let him win.

Saeran grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked it down, eyes peering into him as his head was forced back. The man was ferocious for sure. Rika herself didn’t seem particularly prone to violence, but clearly the ‘Believers’ here feared and respected her. Was she drugging them? Brainwashing? Coercing? Threatening? He’d have to find out what made them tick, what made Rika such a powerful force and presence.

“I have a great idea, just for you,” Saeran laughed again, throwing away the ball of hair. Vanderwood cracked his neck and got comfortable again, closing his eyes instead of watching Saeran leave the room.

It was his opportunity. This was maybe the easiest escape he’d ever had—the cult members were completely inexperienced. Before they had tied him, he had surrendered his wrists and created a gap of space for them. Like amateurs, they secured rope around his hands, completely oblivious. Now _them_ he could find a little pity for. They had signed up for a cult, not a kidnapping. It showed in their terrible hiding places and poorly secured tree ladders. One of them had fallen trying to get down, but that wasn’t even his doing.

He began loosening the rope, rubbing his wrists together and stretching his arms apart. After a few thrusts, he felt loose enough to escape entirely. But not yet, Saeran was probably coming back. He needed a longer window to work.

Vanderwood nearly dozed off before the door slammed back on its hinge. His eyes fluttered open and he squinted as Saeran dragged in the flat-screen TV. What the hell was this boy up to? What kind of job did he do here to waste his time like this? He couldn’t imagine his frail body able to handle anything intensive, and he was sweating even now as he placed the TV in front of him and fumbled with the extension cords. Didn’t he know that was dangerous? He could probably use it to channel an electrical current through him after tying him up. He might even die over time with that body of his.

Not that he was planning to do that, of course.

Saeran pulled the remote out of his pocket and flipped through the channels. They were security feeds—good to know.

Wait, no, was he…?

And there you were. He nearly gasped, content to see your silhouette in the corner of the room. It had to be you, right? Vanderwood didn’t care about anyone here but you, it wouldn’t make sense to show him anyone else. He retained his composure, but still found himself leaning in.

“Yes, it’s her, my toy,” Saeran sneered. He ignored him again. You seemed to be on your phone, and then you moved away to open the window. It was still too far to really see you clearly.

“Oh, you want a close-up?” Saeran asked, teasing. He clicked a button, Vanderwood too engrossed to see it. But it flipped to another angle in the room, somewhere much closer. Your eyes lit up, then squinted from the influx of sunlight. But Vanderwood only saw the black rings around your eyes, your busted lip, your bandaged nose. His eyes trailed down to the marks and bruises on your neck, then stopped when they saw the bite mark on your shoulder.

His heart dropped. Saeran wasn’t lying?

“What…did you do?” He asked. They had hurt you—no, Saeran didn’t do this, right?

He was going to spare Saeran, he reminded himself. But if _he_ did that to you…

Saeran clapped with a small laugh.

“So he speaks! I already told you what I did, _airhead_. I just wanted you to see the show. She’s mine now, and you’ll never have her again.”

Saeran hurled the remote at his face, it slamming against the skull of the focused Vanderwood before clacking to the floor, batteries flying out. He paid it no mind, all thoughts pointed towards your bruised face on the feed. Vanderwood held in his chest all the things he wanted to say to you once you were safe, once you were back in his arms. He should’ve tried harder, he should’ve gotten you out of here earlier. He should never have even left you alone in that apartment.

But you stayed, because he was selfish. He had blamed you and Seven’s tiredness on why you didn’t leave with him that day instead of telling you the truth—that he wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ let you go.

Even when Saeran kneed him once in his chin, Vanderwood could hardly pull his focus away from you. The madman strolled to the door, his wicked grin going unnoticed by the agent.

“She says _my_ name now, Vanderwood.”

And he was gone.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

You cursed—your view of the garden was beautiful, mesmerizing. Whoever had designed the space, whoever planted the flowers, had known what they were doing. It was a labor of love, brilliant and enticing even in the atrocity of your situation. You hated how spellbinding it was, the several, vibrant colors trapping you in their smiling leaves that reached out to you and beckoned you to join them. You couldn’t smell them from your height—and you had tried—but just the view gave you the illusion of calm, flowery scents and you breathed it all in.

It was enough to almost make you forget your thirst.

You returned to your emails, one hand swiping along your phone while the other shaded your eyes from the glare of the sunlight. It felt too nice to move away, but it still made reading your screen difficult. The guests were rolling in, some of them canceling for arbitrary things or the late notice, but the majority of them were excited and honored to attend. They had genuine intentions, you did not.

Another Believer strolled past the garden in the edge of your vision and you scowled. There was no point in looking, it would be hard to see their face. Anytime someone passed your door or the garden, you tensed. Everyone here was a monster, so it didn’t matter who it was. Unless it did? The Believer was still in the corner of your vision, the black robe halted in your view. You looked up from the phone and squinted. Their unmistakable mint eyes were starting straight at you. V wanted to tell you something, you could tell from the intensity of his searching pools. But he was certainly not going to yell it, not while he was undercover. He dropped his gaze and scurried off, glancing back at you before disappearing around the corner. What was that about?

A knock made you jump and you braced yourself, your fear of Saeran growing every day. The knock came again, softly, and your terror became curiosity and worry. Saeran didn’t knock twice, usually not at all. Knocking implied requesting permission, which he hardly did. You found your voice, a loud and dry, “Yes?” falling out. Was it Rika?

The hood of a Believer poked into view, their head remaining lowered. They clearly did not want you to see their face, and you decided that was fine. They stepped in and gingerly closed the door behind them, it held open just barely with a foot. Were they here to deliver a message?

Timidly, they fumbled with their hands. It was nervousness without Saeran in the vicinity and you were growing cold even as you basked in the sun rays on the other side of the room.

“It’s s-said you know Vanderwood?”

Your skin pricked. Without Saeran in the room, you felt no danger in rushed honesty. “Yes, I do. Why?”

Their hands fell to their sides. “He’s a killer,” they hissed.

You opened your mouth to defend him, but as if glued, they slammed shut. Whoever they were, they were right. Vanderwood had probably killed people, you knew that. But the way they spoke of him, the way they _said_ it, angered you.

“And you’re cult member who’s fine with kidnapping,” you retorted, returning to your phone as if you were bored.

“He didn’t kill me,” they continued, softer now.

A thought. They had your full attention now, your phone was discarded on your bed.

“Why are you here?”

If there was one thing you noticed about Believers, it was that they did not acknowledge you, they did not even seem to think you existed at all unless Saeran directed their attention to you. You were his pet, you had thought, but even more than that you were a ghost. With this considered, why had this person come here to ask questions of you? The careful way they entered and the way they quickly closed the door without making any demands but of your voice told you everything you needed to know.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you followed up before they could answer. The hopeful part of you wanted them to be involved with V, but you doubted your rescuer who open up with an attack on your fiancé.

“Why didn’t he shoot me, too?” They croaked, a soft sob tethering just on the edge of their question.

They lifted their head to you. It was a woman, silent tears streaming down her face. Despite her coherent and emotion-driven speech, she appeared just like everyone else here—eyes just slightly unfocused, something off about her. Perhaps lightly, but she was still drugged. You felt pity in your stomach. She was confused, scared. How many more of those drugs would she have to take to be like Saeran? What would she have to go through to be like Saeran? Perhaps she already was.

You gritted your teeth. This place did something to people. You could see that now. You were too upset with Saeran to extend the same sympathy to him before, but seeing this woman in front of you reminded you who the originator was—Rika. They were twins, would Saeran be like Seven if she hadn’t done this to him?

You took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. You needed to focus.

“Vanderwood shot someone?”

“Of course he did!” The woman snapped, her fear instantly scouring to rage. “I hope they kill him, too.”

She gasped, her hands shooting to cover her mouth. She hacked into them in a fit of coughs as she bolted out the door. You heard it click, the sign it was locked again, and slumped against the window. The woman had hoped Vanderwood would be killed? Who was _they_ , Mint Eye? It didn’t make sense unless…

Unless he had come for you, after all. No. Saeran had told you what would happen once he got his hands on him—he would choose one of you to destroy while the other watched. He swore on Rika’s life, so you believed him. And you hadn’t said his name since.

You shivered, uncertain now. Vanderwood, had he really killed someone here? That would be insane, nearly as insane as you being here in the first place. You hung an arm out of the window, grabbing for warmth, but stifling a small whine when it felt unremarkable.

The woman’s voice floated by in a scream, followed by a shout. You slowly found your feet, stiffening by the open window. Believers, afraid? It had to be him. It never was anything else.

The door flung open, your fears confirmed and amplified by the glint in his wide eyes. He wanted to torment you again, it was time. If you had any moisture to spare, perhaps you’d cry. Your words scraped to get out of your throat, it hurt. “Saeran, Saeran wait,” you mumbled more than pleaded as he paused, halfway across the room.

“How rude of me, Princess. I’m here to show Vanderwood just how much fun we can have together on your cameras. Come, let’s put on a show for him, before I get rid of him.” Saeran said it all so plainly, so smoothly, that you didn’t think he was lying.

No, no it wasn’t possible. So he was here. Did you feel the dizziness and see stars, or did you feel stars and see the world blur? Your head hit the wall by the window as you stumbled back all the same. You were going to get Vanderwood killed, just as you feared.

“Cameras?” You gasped, steadying yourself against the wall.

“Of course, I have to see what my pet is up to whenever I want,” Saeran nodded, eyebrows arching up as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and he was simply reassuring you.

“Like,” he said with a lick of his lips, “if she’s doing her work or…” He trailed off into a smirk. “If she’s getting dressed properly…” You felt violated again and blinked your eyes to remain focused, ignoring the heat rising on the back of your neck. It was new information, but it didn’t surprise you based on his previous behavior.

He began approaching again, and your feet moved on their own in your panic. You stepped out, past the open window’s frame before you realized what you were doing. If Saeran tormented you, he would kill Vanderwood after. Vanderwood was _watching_ , according to him. So, Saeran absolutely, couldn’t torment you. Not today, not this time.

“What are you doing?” He screamed, his feet halted and his eyes wide once more.

You didn’t know, you couldn’t tell him. You hung out the window and glanced down to the drop. If you fell, if you let go, you would die.

“MC!” He growled, a heavy step forward.

“D-don’t come any closer!”

And like magic, Saeran stopped on command. You locked eyes with him, arm trembling but holding on tightly. A small gust of wind should’ve felt amazing, but all it did was remind you that you really were outside. This was happening to you, and it was real.

“If you fall, you’ll die,” he said slowly through gritted teeth, as if you didn’t understand the implications of what you were doing.

“Yes,” you gulped.

His shoulders relaxed and he squatted down. Saeran was thinking, his gaze not leaving yours.

“I think,” he began, his voice soft, “You are threatening me.”

“I think I am.”

He nodded, his hands clasping together now.

“If you die the day before the party, Savior will be upset,” he explained, still eerily calm.

So they needed you alive, at least until they could get into the party. Yes, of course, it made sense now. Maybe you weren’t just a hostage, maybe you were their way in as the party coordinator who approved entries. If true, it meant they intended on bringing you to the party after all. You tried to remember Rika’s words—did she even imply such a thing?

But more importantly, Saeran’s words meant you had all the power in the situation. And with power, comes demands.

“Where is Vanderwood?”

The only thing you cared about.

The scowl returned, but he kept his voice low. “He’s a captive, watching us through the cameras.” You glanced around, still unsure where exactly they were. Saeran made no move to assist you in locating them, so you focused back on him.

“Is _he_ why you’re doing this?” He asked you.

“Yes.” You said it so quickly, so assuredly, that you winced. But Saeran did not fume, he simply stared.

After a few silent beats, despair crossed his face. He stood up with a grimace, sunken eyes lowered. “So you do love him,” he nodded. Saeran peered upwards at you, head still tilted down. “Why?”

In another scenario, you would’ve felt obligated or forced to answer him. But for once, you indignantly remained silent. His eyebrows furrowed—more confused than upset with your lack of words. “But you just met him, right?” He wasn’t asking you, he was asking himself.

“I want to see him,” you said, the command in your voice completely absent. You cursed, it sounded more like a plea, a whisper. It had none of the power you imagined for yourself.

The glare returned, and a foot moved forward before sliding back into place. He wasn’t going to risk it, he wasn’t even going to _try_. Your heart sung just as your arm began slipping and you quickly readjusted.

Saeran took a deep breath, fingers traveling to gently scratch at his head like you’ve seen him do so many times before. He spoke slowly, carefully. “Even if I bring him here, neither of you will be able to escape this room. If I,” he gulped, glancing over his shoulder at the door, “If I bring him here, Savior may not take kindly to you. It may make things worse…for you.”

If it helped Vanderwood be safe, it didn’t matter. But part of you felt Saeran was lying—it wasn’t going to just make things worse for you, it would probably make things worse for him, too. You thought of the elixir, the way Rika admonished and commanded him. You were his pet, under his jurisdiction. And now, he had lost control of you with your single action, your single threat.

“It’s alright,” you lied, “I’ll cooperate with Savior as long as Vanderwood is safe.”

His fingers traced through his tresses, not digging or tugging, just smoothing. Saeran was calming himself down, seeming to take your words to heart. His eyes seemed to glaze over, drowning in your confirmation. He nodded, accepting.

“This won’t work again,” he whispered to you from across the room. This time, you knew he wasn’t lying. You nodded back. Saeran backed up to the room entrance, eyes not leaving yours even as he began pulling the door close in-front of him.

_This won’t work again._

“Wait!” You shouted. He paused.

“10 minutes, or I’ll…”

“Yes,” he hissed, slamming it shut. You could briefly hear him scream something at the guards. And so you waited on the edge of the window, the weight of your threat causing your bottom lip to tremble. What the hell were you doing? You took deep breaths, hoping, wishing, and _praying_ that the next person who came to that door was the man you loved and not someone who would be willing to push you over.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

The first thing Saeran noticed was the unconscious Believer beside the door, the second was the broken television, and the third was the overbearing pain in his chest. He didn’t necessarily see that Vanderwood was gone—of course he knew that when he first saw the Believer on the floor, but it wasn’t his concern. The absence of his captive and the toppled chair did not distress him as much as what it meant—a sea of toxic blue, your corpse near the garden, and the disapproval of a blonde woman. But he couldn’t scream, he cried silently as he returned to the hall, walking past the Believer before taking off in a desperate run and struggling to make a phone call.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

Vanderwood didn’t finish listening to you and Saeran speaking. As soon as the man had screamed at you, asking what you were doing, he had enough.

He would kill Saeran before he ever scared you into the corner of a room again, before he ever harmed you again, before he ever even dared raise his _voice_ at you again.

He wouldn’t admit it, but he was panicking. Leaving now without a better assessment of his surroundings was foolish, idiotic even, especially since he understood the extent of the camera surveillance. But he didn’t care, he needed to end this by any means necessary. The Believer he knocked out told him the basics—‘Savior’ could be found by the cars and trucks as they prepared for tomorrow, most of the Believers were helping with the ‘gifts,’ Saeran’s control room was on the 3rd floor along with the ‘Princess,’ and there were a very limited amount of guns on the premises. He claimed to know nothing about V or Mr. Saeran’s roles. Vanderwood had thanked him, then fulfilled his promise—he kept him alive, just unconscious. Before leaving, he took up his taser and rope, the only weapons he had available at the moment.

If he wasn’t going to play this smart, he at least had to play this optimally. Your life depended on it. Vanderwood went the long way down the hall, mentally recalling every step he took since they blindfolded and walked him through Magenta. If someone were coming for him, they would come from the left and not the right. He simply needed to make it to the building over, undetected.

He walked with purpose, head held high even as he continued to bleed through his shirt. This, too, was a strategy. Partially, he was tricking himself into a state of confidence. If someone else saw him, they would hesitate, wondering briefly if perhaps he wasn’t an infiltrator.

The first Believer he encountered didn’t have a chance to hesitate, head low as he sauntered into the corridor. Vanderwood’s hand planted itself on his face, muffling a short cry as he slammed him head-first into the hard tile. He didn’t care to check and see if he had fractured his skull, his stillness enough for his purposes.

He peeked out of the corner he came from—no one was there, just a door that led outside, the hint being the mat in front of it. If this were a mission, he would take his time. He just needed _time_. But he couldn’t bring himself to wait, he needed to find you. He took off and paused at the entrance, using a lazy hand to push it open and peek his head out. Two Believers were in-front of the doors of the second building, speaking to each other. Shit.

He returned to the unconscious man, roughly stripping off his robe to don it himself. If the man’s skull was splintered, he had guaranteed his death. Not his problem.

 _With purpose,_ he reminded himself.

He exited the building, slowly, to not draw their attention. His head held high once more, robe hood covering as much as possible without being obnoxious. He approached, they only served him a glance.

Good.

He brushed past, saying nothing while they continued their idle chatter, whispers of elixir batches and a proper cleansing ceremony. He didn’t want to know—he didn’t need to know.

As soon as the door closed behind him, he held his breath. Here, there were at least five Believers walking the halls, heads lowered. Everyone reminded him of you, their robes obscuring their true body size. This wouldn’t do. Vanderwood finally lowered his head to mimic them, keeping a brisk pace as his eyes traveled the hall for a staircase. The floor grew still, he stopped like the others. They all moved to the sides of the hall, bowing.

Saeran.

Hot air escaped his mouth. He could kill him—he could do it right fucking now. He could snap his neck like the twig it was, or he could dislocate his joints and leave him for later. He could paralyze him for life, he could send him off to the agency as a _rat_.

The suited man ran past Believers, paying them no mind as he frantically took off down the hall towards the exit. Was it for him? Or Rika? Vanderwood held his breath, bowing and closing his eyes to remind himself that it wasn’t the time to stop him. He could probably take everyone here, but it would be out of pride and not out of strategy. Even with the anger swelling in his chest, he wasn’t going to trade revenge for your rescue. There would be time for Saeran, if he was smart. But you and stopping whatever the hell Rika was doing was top priority.

As soon as the gust of wind passed him, he also ran, surprising a couple Believers as he shoved them out of the way and ran up the staircase Saeran had come from.

He wanted to see you so bad. Were you hurt? He nearly tripped on his ankle as he turned around the spiraling steps.

Second floor.

Were you alive? He braced himself on the wall, ignoring the Believer who stopped to watch his mad ascension past them.

Third floor.

Three Believers on this hall. Two stood guard over a door, the other approached the top of the stairs where she stood with a clipboard.

It must be your room. He took a careful step forward, unsure whether to hold his head high or lower it. The woman approaching him was shaky, doing both. She kept glancing up as she flipped through the paper on her clipboard. His eyes darted between the woman and your door—you were right there, so close. He needed to know you were alright and felt his hands beginning to sweat. Vanderwood decided to lower his head after all, walking slowly forward down the hall. But this Believer noticed him.

“If you’re here for the lists, they’re already taken care of,” she chirped, loudly.

“Thank you,” he replied, not hesitating in his walk.

“So why are you here, then?” She asked, annoyed.

Hm.

“Mr. Saeran instructed me to retrieve something from the control room,” he lied. Would she buy it?

“ _You_? Who are you? Why would Mr. Saeran give _you_ access?” She sounded angry.

Oh. He recognized this voice. He turned to face her directly, her eyes widened. Either she recognized him or the cuts on his face were a surprise. Whether she would remain conscious or not depended on which was true.

“I don’t know, I doubt it’ll happen again,” he remarked nonchalantly, remembering how bitter she was about not using her ‘talents’ for Magenta when she fetched your phone from the side of the mountain road.

She turned her eyes away quickly. “I-I see, OK.”

So it was the cuts. He let her descend and hurried down the hall. It was easy to find the room—a different doorknob than the rest, and a number pad system needed for access instead of a key. He would have to kick in the door. It would be loud and obvious, the guards would surely see him. But he didn’t have the patience to do otherwise. If Saeran was returning to his cell it would only be minutes before everyone knew of his escape, and if they didn’t already notice unconscious Believers on the floor.

Vanderwood backed up, then jumped forward. A crack. He glanced back at the guards, who were still at the door, then kicked again. The wood splintered entirely above the handle, he did it again. He glanced back, the guards were looking at him but not moving. Why? He didn’t have time to care and shoved the door in.

Holy shit. And he thought Seven was eccentric.

The room wasn’t like he imagined—it was a cross between a studio, a hacking base, and a lab. Nearly 15 computer screens were stacked on top of each other, a gigantic sound board and two keyboards sitting in front of them. To the side of them all, long cabinets with scientific instruments and various containers of things he was _sure_ were illegal the last time he checked.

And Vanderwood had never felt so dumb.

He had denied it, even when the evidence was plain with no contradictions. The people on the phone had referred to Mr. Saeran and Mr. Ray as the people behind Mint Eye’s technology, Saeran was in charge of surveillance and had a control room, and now that Vanderwood was standing here, surrounded by flicking green and black code, he had arrived at the answer. Saeran was the hacker, Saeran was Unknown. He had always been Unknown, he had targeted you from the beginning. If anything, he was in _charge_ of targeting you and the RFA. He was probably the one who had hacked into the apartment and nearly killed you, he was the reason he had met you and the reason you might be lost to him forever.

He tried to calm down, glancing once more at the guards at the door who had their nightsticks out but remained in place. They must have their instructions, or alternatively afraid of thinking for themselves. Not his problem.

He had to secure his escape with you. His hands flicked over the computer, looking for something familiar. Anything would help. But the code didn’t make any sense, sporadic even. It was worse than deciphering Seven’s process, but whatever it was had worked flawlessly. It was out of his league, he promptly gave up. An image of your smiling face made him punch the keyboard too hard. Vanderwood’s eyes instead darted over the security camera feeds, taking note of where the more prominent ones were placed. There were far more than anticipated, he wouldn’t have time to plot out a route.

Plan B. He picked up the empty coffee mug and smashed it into the nearest screen, shattering both. One down. He looked for something else heavy, and paused when he noticed the corner screen had gone to sleep. He moved the mouse over to it and shook, eyes furrowing when he saw the folder—images of individuals who clearly had not consented. Street cameras captured pictures of various people going to stores and their homes. One of them was you. No, several of them. So _many_ of them were you, with varying levels of quality. Curiosity distracted him, he clicked the folder with your name on it.

Hundreds of pictures, maybe even upwards to a thousand. He quickly skimmed down, taking note of the different seasons of clothes you wore all the way up to the most recent pictures of you in your room, many of them of you sleeping or undressing.

He gritted his teeth. Vanderwood dashed to the containers atop a ‘lab’ counter, picking up one containing forest green sludge-like liquid. He looked one last time over the feeds, hesitating only when one of them flickered to you, hanging on the outside edge of the windowsill.

No.

_No!_

_Don’t do it._ He poured the container quickly, shutting his eyes as some of it splashed on his face and stung his cuts. What the hell was in this? Acid?

Vanderwood breathed in the minty smell, throwing the container to the side. He didn’t have time to evenly distribute the liquid, too terrified that he was going to be too late. Instead, he ripped out cords and let every screen fade to black. He picked up a second container, something more baby blue and almost seeming to glow. He tossed it on the cords and took off back into the hall.

The guards were still in the same place. They only made their move when Vanderwood got close enough to the ‘Princess’ door. The first one swung at his head with the stick, gripping it with both hands. Vanderwood stopped it with one—bending it at an angle that caused the man to scream and let go instantly. The second did the same, aiming for his abdomen. Vanderwood kicked it out of his hands and retaliated with the stick he just acquired from the first.

Vanderwood struck the man in the face, making him reel back into the door with a pained grunt. The second man tackled him with a shout, they tumbled to the floor as the first man ran to retrieve his stick. Vanderwood head-butted the man on him and rolled him over, striking him once—twice—three times before the man’s head limply rolled to the side. The second man returned, lashing downwards towards Vanderwood’s head with the stick but stopped by his own. Vanderwood was in a bad position, still on top of the battered man and awkwardly trying to stand up as he was pushed downwards.

A shout from inside the room got his attention.

The worst case scenario came to mind. He didn’t have time for this.

Vanderwood then did what he never did—he screamed.

The guard was shocked, but didn’t let up. Vanderwood ceased the power struggle and the stick struck him in his temple, then continued downwards with the sudden momentum. Vanderwood took the opportunity to get to his feet, in the process gripping the robe of the shocked man and tossing him to the floor. He tripped over his fallen comrade and dropped his stick. He reached out for it, but was met with the boot of Vanderwood crushing his hand.

He screamed, and was promptly silenced with a swift kick to his neck—a temporary measure. But Vanderwood continued with a more permanent one, another, heavier kick into his skull. The man limped over the other Believer and Vanderwood ran for the door. It was an automatic lock—if he entered without propping open the door, he’d have to kick it down. He ran back for a rolling nightstick before shoving open the door.

He didn’t know what to expect, but this was, indeed, the worst case. You were gone. His eyes darted over the room, were you hiding? He wanted to call for you, but his throat clogged up. He dropped the stick to stop the door from closing and stepped in further.

_No._

The window.

_No, please._

He ran for the open window and looked down to see your beautiful, teary eyes. Vanderwood didn’t think, he grabbed onto your arm even as you shouted in surprise and pain. He violently heaved you in a single motion back through the window and inside the room. He collapsed backwards on the floor with your weight, squeezing you into the safety of his arms.

 

You couldn’t breathe, the shock of nearly falling to your demise and now the sudden death grip of your lover confusing your emotions (and lungs). Vanderwood was here, Vanderwood was in Magenta. He had come for you. You would hug him if you could move. You opted to breathe in his scent and let the well of emotions spill out into his chest. Safe.

Vanderwood pulled back, his arms finally giving you room to move. His hands cupped your face, taking care to not touch your nose as his fingers tenderly brushed your cheeks and wiped at the stream of tears. It only made you cry harder as you gazed back at his cut and bleeding face. Safe.

He returned his arms to your back and stood up, taking you with him. Gently, he sat you on the bed and inspected your body, silent and meticulous, eyes glancing past you to the door every few seconds. Vanderwood’s fingers ghosted over your arms, your chest, your legs—everywhere, quickly without removing any clothes. He nodded, satisfied. He took a deep breath and glared at you. But still, you had never felt safer.

“Promise me something,” he asked, arms crossing.

“Yes,” you nodded, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. Already, you felt uncomfortable without bodily contact.

“Never try to throw your life away again.” Vanderwood choked on his words, arms uncrossing and fists balling at his sides.

“I didn’t…” You stopped. No. It didn’t matter if it was an accident or not. It didn’t even matter if he was referring to this particular situation or not. You nodded.

“I promise.”

He sighed, leaning over you on the bed and pressing his forehead to yours.

“I love you,” you murmured. He responded with a light kiss, his lips brushing carefully against your face to not put pressure on your nose. But you didn’t care. You reached a hand to his neck and pushed him closer, the slight tinge of pain from your nose going ignored. He obliged eagerly, his hands moving to cover and grip yours, as if you were still dangling from a window. But here you were, grounded, kissing in your beautiful prison while an illegal cult tried to overtake a charity party taking place tomorrow.

It wasn’t an ideal reunion, and he pulled away first.

“We have to go.”

You nodded. You had to return to your uncomfortable reality. But Vanderwood got here so fast, there was no way Saeran retrieved him in that window of time. So how?

“I’m sorry,” the wobbling voice whispered. “You’ll have to trust me, please stay.”

You both turned to see the mint-haired man remove the nightstick from the doorway.

“You!” Vanderwood hissed, standing straight so fast his hood went flying back.

And the door closed, V disappearing, leaving only the sounds of the lock clicking.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

Saeran didn’t exactly ‘hear’ voices, he felt urges that didn’t belong to him. The weak version of him that he had to constantly drown away begged him to make sure you were alright, an even smaller, strange part of him he didn’t understand begged him to reach out for help from the people who betrayed him. Both of them were wrong, both of them were idiots. But even him—the real Saeran—considered their words as Savior gave him a look of pity. He knew this look, nothing good ever happened after it. But to be fair, nothing good ever prompted it. This look was meant for Ray, not him. But he received it all the time. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t understand where he went wrong, and why his failure was so consistent at such an inopportune time.

She turned away from him to stand by his side, overseeing the Believers as they shuffled around boxes, loading them into the truck and two additional cars. “It’s unfortunate, but it won’t stop us,” she finally declared, her voice purring but doing nothing to relax him. “Saeran, did you honestly believe she would do it?”

Saeran didn’t know what she wanted to hear, he glanced over at her to see if her body language would give him a hint. But she was ethereal, grace, nothing to betray that she was upset with him.

“I don’t know, I did not want to risk it,” he admitted. It was honest. He always tried to be honest with Savior, it was pointless to not be.

“Arm the guards with two of our guns,” she hummed, shaking her head as a Believer approached. They bowed and shuffled away, rejected.

He didn’t argue, Savior knew best. “Yes,” he agreed, with a gulp.

“You will stay here as one of the people on surveillance for Vanderwood and Magenta, someone else will accompany the girl.”

Air escaped him in a silent scream. “S-Savior, wait, I can…I can still do this.”

She was punishing him, letting him know with a reassignment that she had lost faith in him. But he had to attend the party, she would be there, you would be there, and they would all go to Paradise—together. His brother might even attend, and he could finally— _finally_ give him what he deserves. He had planned this for years, why should he be denied the satisfaction now? Everything he did, all the sleepless nights…tears welled up at the sides of his eyes, but didn’t fall. Maybe he was too shocked to be sad.

“Things are changing. You will get what you need, Saeran. Just trust me,” she sighed.

No, no, _no_ , did she think otherwise? The tears fell, he tried to blink them away.

“Of course, my Savior. Of course,” he cried out.

“Now go, and bring your gun.”

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

“Jaehee, weren’t you the last person to speak with Yoosung?” Zen asked with a grunt, stretching out his back as he stood over the box of ruby table linens.

“I think we should direct our attention elsewhere, I don’t think he has any plans to speak with us anytime soon,” she sighed, fixing her skirt as she stood up from kneeling over a different box. Zen let out a dramatic groan in response. He peered up at the ceiling as lights flickered nearby, being tested by the crew.

Normally the preparation excited him, but he couldn’t get over how he was here and Vanderwood was _there_.

Jumin seemed to be the only one Seven was communicating with, which annoyed him but he understood they were preparing something with his resources.

Even now, Jumin had left to attend to some ‘business’ and at this point Zen doubted the man was returning before tomorrow. Oh well.

“Zen?” Jaehee mused.

He raised an eyebrow and peered over at the smiling woman. He couldn’t help but grin, matching her positive energy. Zen chuckled and began strolling over. “Yes, Jaehee?”

“It’s time for a break!” She cheered, barely able to contain the glee that sung from her lips.

“And what are we doing on this break?” He asked, entertaining her.

“We can have coffee while they test the screens with a video,” she giggled, peeking behind her at the large backdrop by the stage.

“But the cameras aren’t set up yet,” Zen frowned.

“It’s fine,” she affirmed, pushing up her glasses. “They asked if there were any DVDs to play to start testing…”

He nodded, continuing her purposeful trail with an exaggerated, “Yessss?”

“I had some!” She cheered. “Follow me!”

So he did, biting his lip as he passed the abandoned box of linens and weaved with her through straggling assistants who had boxes and equipment of their own.

They stopped by the makeshift coffee set-up, and Jaehee patiently watched the machine finish brewing a new mug. “I’ll get it, go ahead and find somewhere to sit,” Zen offered with a polite smile. Jaehee frowned, but perked up immediately after. “Alright! Yes, I know somewhere.”

He chuckled as she flitted off, wondering why the sight of her reminded him of a beautiful fairy.

He poured two cups and went off to find the dainty creature, who sat atop a wooden crate lined with a golden, thick table cloth he recognized from the previous party. She motioned for him to join her with a pat, and he approached, handing her a mug before sitting down.

He watched her eyes sparkle as she stared at the white screen fading into colors. A familiar couple keys of a piano distracted him from his gaze, and he grinned. There he was, one of his earlier performances, standing aside his co-star as she began singing along to the tune. Zen wasn’t the lead, but was told he stole the show just from the intense and lively glare that seemed to jump from the screen.

“You’re amazing,” he whistled, relaxing into the warm aroma of the piping mug of coffee and taking a careful sip.

Jaehee simply shook her head, wordless and engrossed. He wondered if she was assessing the quality of the screen, it was a fantastic idea to use familiar DVD footage to check the color difference. Jaehee never stopped thinking ahead, he admired that about the woman. Jumin truly didn’t deserve her.

“MC will like your DVDs,” she hummed, right as the younger him on screen dashed across the stage and the instruments flared up to accompany the ascending piano.

Zen grimaced. “Yeah, I hope so.”

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

The Unknown duo was gone again, for much longer than usual. But it still wasn’t enough, what he assumed were automatic programs were still strong enough to delay him. Anxious and down to his last whatever the hell he was eating—probably outdated—Seven knew very clearly he was running out of time. The microphone on the woman had thankfully never been discovered, but it was now useless with no voices heard for hours. Most likely, it was being cleaned in laundry somewhere or thrown away. After all, it was definitely blood-stained. Regardless, it had abandoned his interest.

Seven puffed out air, taking a moment to check and see if there was anything new from Jumin or the other members. So far, so good—no bombs or new threats or sketchy people trying to help set-up the party. But, nothing new wasn’t good when applied to Yoosung. He was still with the bodyguards, who gave regular updates to each other (because of a stunt a certain actor pulled), but his location changes were sporadic and unusual. He didn’t want to pry, nor did he have the time, but a gut feeling made him wonder if perhaps the bodyguards were compromised in some way. Per their job description, they never spoke of their client’s activities, no matter how strange. If he was doing something upsetting, surely they would stop him, right? Seven groaned, seeing Yoosung head towards the outskirts of the city, far from his school campus.

A quick alert from one of his programs caught his attention and he groaned. What now? He prayed one of the hackers—Ray or Saeran—wasn’t back. He timidly tapped a finger to bring it to the forefront, the appearance of his smiling cat emoji making him squint in disbelief.

It had to be Vanderwood.

Unless it was a trap. Seven scanned the text, his denial quickly reforming into butterflies as what was a clear opening became more apparent. If it was a trap, it was a damn good one, and he would be foolish whether he went for it or not. The limits of his laptop were becoming apparent, and he sighed. He mulled over the possibilities, the cat seeming to grow smaller yet more enticing with every second. He nodded and clicked, quickly before he could regret his decision. It was all-or-nothing, the party was tomorrow.

And then the screen went black.

Shit. So it _was_ a trap? Instead of panic, a numbness crept over him. Had he really failed everyone in mere seconds?

A new emoji popped up in the corner and Seven got over his hesitation immediately. An emoji? Similar to his own style for the RFA messenger? A man in a black suit with white and red hair, grinning. Another appeared, angry. Then a whole set, then an additional set of the same white-haired man with less aggressive emojis and pink-ish clothes. RFA ones started populating the screen, scrolling text and code blinking down the page and obscuring them. Wait, why did the Rika ones appear modified? There were even incomplete ones of who he could only assume was you.

Mint Eye truly wanted to take over the RFA, he supposed it made sense to create emojis for you. At the very least, it confirmed his suspicions they intended to keep you permanently. But why modify Rika’s? Something else was off. He scrolled back up, even as the scrolling bar got thinner by the second. His laptop wouldn’t be able to handle all this information on the same page. Ah—he found them—V’s were gone.

Oh.

Oh, _no_. He needed to go to Magenta, he had to help him. Vanderwood was right, perhaps it was a hostage situation. Seven figured the attack was personal, but against _him_. He didn’t realize it was never about him, but V and Rika. It made Yoosung’s behavior even more concerning. He didn’t suspect he was involved, but...if someone was angry over Rika’s death, it would make sense to target him first.

After V, of course, who they clearly already had. Was he selfish, narcissistic even to assume the organization named Mint Eye had a vendetta against him and not the man with mint eyes?

He forwarded all the incoming information to Jumin. It was time to move, he would have to read on-the-go. Whatever Vanderwood did completely collapsed the security, like it had been prematurely unplugged. There would surely be backups, but the damage was already done. In an hour, he’d have a considerable, irreplaceable chunk of Mint Eye’s secrets, enough to end this game once and for all.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

Rika was a kind woman, she did not threaten her Believers. Safe for you, everyone had come here willingly. She did not even give herself the title of Savior, it was bestowed upon her by her loyal followers. She acted accordingly, until she too, believed she deserved it. Even without the reminders from V and Saeran, Rika knew perfectly well she had begun an empire on her own accord. She was helping people, saving them— _the_ , Savior.

She might even allow herself to be impressed by her achievements had Saeran not murdered 17 people and displaced 90 from their homes, had she not lost the lives of two Believers in two months, had V simply given up his pointless endeavor _months_ ago instead of inciting fear and confusion in her followers.

She would have to address all of these bubbling problems after the party. For now, the success of initiating the RFA and guests into Mint Eye was the top priority. Once that was complete, everything she worked so hard for would fall neatly into place. She won’t have to worry about the nearly uncontrollable Saeran leaving her, being torn apart by RFA— _her_ organization, mind you—sentiments, not having resources and connections, or abandoning her broken friends who need salvation. They would all be together again, just like old times, except everyone would feel whole, live together, and accept and love the real her. It would be _her_ version of paradise.

As the door slammed open, she remembered why it wasn’t there just yet. Only Saeran entered so boldly or loudly, she promptly sat up and waited for his report. But he wasn’t alone, he dragged in V with him. He threw V on the floor, and she winced. Rika already knew just how bruised V’s knees already were. Her lips parted to ask about his condition, but she decided against it with a sigh. It didn’t matter, all the pain he brought onto himself was of his own volition.

But the flash of the gun did perk her back up. “Saeran, I would prefer you put the gun down in my presence.”

The man’s furious expression dimmed, and he obeyed with a nod and mumble.

“Tell Savior what you told me,” he motioned towards her, hand still cupped as if he was still mentally holding the weapon.

“Vanderwood is locked in MC’s room. He’s…he’s going to stay put for the party. For her,” V coughed, rising to his feet.

Well this was a new development. Vanderwood was, without a doubt, an asset to Mint Eye. They needed solid muscle and someone with field experience. Although Saeran, and possibly his brother, were geniuses she could use for most things, they were not exactly proficient teachers in combat, defense, or weaponry. She had full confidence after meeting Vanderwood that he was the other half to Luciel, and was exactly what she was looking for. That you and he had formed some sort of attachment was just icing on the cake, you would serve as a nice motivation for his cooperation until he was fully initiated. Rika waited patiently to see if V had anything else to say—he had a habit of hesitating, of withholding information. Now that his vision was lessening, he couldn’t fall victim as much to her glare and speak quicker. So, she waited.

 _“Everything_ you told me!” Saeran screamed, his cupped hand balling into a fist.

V nodded, in no direction in particular. Poor thing.

“Right, um, it also seems he destroyed the…control room.”

Saeran hissed, pacing in place.

“What do you mean?” She inquired.

“I haven’t seen it, but he claims everything in there was broken, that the deep mint patch was completely empty! He stopped me in the hall just to prevent me from going there myself!” Saeran answered for him.

V nodded in confirmation.

“He’s probably getting information as we speak!” He spat. “Savior, I need…I need to go to the party. I have to go now to the city where the backups are, I have to…” He trailed off, gasping and squatting down. He was having another attack.

Rika hummed. This was not good, another inconvenience, although this one a bit extreme. But she couldn’t panic, she had to remain the face of Savior for their sake.

“The trucks are loaded, the Believers are prepared. Now that Vanderwood is in the room, it hardly matters as much. If information leaks about Magenta, we will gain the resources from the party to easily build something new. As long as MC and I are there, the Believers will be able to distribute the wine and everything will still go according to plan.”

Saeran nodded, head still lowered to the floor and beginning to rock back and forth.

“MC will be at the party, too?” V spoke up, worry clear in his tone.

“Naturally,” she stated, matter-of-factly. “Will that be a problem?”

“Well, no, yes…Vanderwood won’t allow that so easily,” he said, slowly. “I don’t think he’ll cooperate if she goes.”

“He’ll cooperate over time. We have guns, he has no say in the matter.”

V opened up his mouth to speak, she promptly cut him off.

“Saeran. Since the circumstances have changed…”

He looked up, eyes wide and expectant. She hoped this wouldn’t crush him, she hated to see him so eager for nothing.

“You will not help guard Vanderwood. You will instead go with the IT team to the backups in the city, leaving tonight, and see what you can do to minimize the damage.”

The light in his eyes faded. He was still not allowed to go to the party. Rika knew he blamed his failure, but it wasn’t about that at all. It was about Luciel, she didn’t need them meeting and causing a scene at the party just yet, and she had never intended for him to go in the first place. There would be time for that, after.

“You are excused,” Rika waved.

With a “Yes, my Savior,” he was gone, sulking out of the door. V hacked into his robe sleeve again, and peered in her direction.

“Yes?” She sighed.

“Reconsider.”

The single, pleading request enraged her. She gripped the sides of her seat. Rika was much higher than him, but she still felt like he was looking down on her even then.

He didn’t need to elaborate, she knew exactly what he meant. Reconsider? Reconsider _years’_ worth of struggling, building? Reconsider her entire life philosophy of helping others, reconsider how many people she already helped with her limited resources? Reconsider the family that she single-handedly built for herself when she only had a single cousin by her side? Reconsider going back to a world that neglected and didn’t care to understand or sympathize with people like her, like he continued to do to this very day, this very _moment_? Reconsider _that_?

“The audacity,” she laughed, “you have to make ridiculous demands of me even now is tragic. You are disappointing me, I can only hope for you.”

His expression didn’t change, that same, stupid— _stupid_ pitying look. He would never change, he would die clueless.

“Rika…”

“You will address me as Savior,” she reminded him, again, for the millionth time. She loved her name—just not from him. The way he said it disturbed her.

He lowered his gaze. Good.

“Do you not have an assignment?”

He shook his head. “Then let me give you one.” She leaned over, relishing in the way he leaned back.

“You will prepare the damaged control room, so clean it until it’s spotless enough for Saeran.”

He nodded immediately, no clear hesitation or disgust in his expression. Nothing but pity.

“You are excused, Number A306,” she confirmed with a twirl of her finger.

He bowed and promptly left. The door closed gently behind him and she grimaced.

The room felt empty.

That’s how he always made her feel. And she hated it.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

“It’s a trick,” he hissed, nearing the door once more before turning back. He could destroy it, it wouldn’t take even a minute to break it down. He could leave—with you. But your pleas, your gentle reassurance, broke him far quicker than he wanted to admit. So he paced the room, trying to reason with you and give the appearance that he wasn’t absolutely smitten and melted twenty minutes ago when you suggested to follow V’s advice.

After all, it didn’t make sense, and he didn’t trust V. It didn’t matter that Seven trusted him, V was a liar. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t a head honcho here, Rika was a liar, too. And Saeran? Well, he hadn’t mentioned him so far. He wasn’t sure how you’d react to his plain-faced admission that he was planning to kill him himself. But he was certain Saeran was a liar, too. Why not?

“It’s not a trick,” you said, shaking your head and starting to stand up again as he neared the door. He backed away, you sat back down. Vanderwood sighed.

“What could possibly be the reason we stay here? Do you think they’ll turn back on their cultish ways and see the light?” He scoffed.

Your frown made him think maybe he was being harsh. He didn’t feel it was harsh? Were you offended? He decided to try again, the guilt returning. You were here not by choice, you had told him to stay away, accepting your fate for his own protection—your fate consisting of a mad cult member who broke your nose and took perverted pictures of you. Were you that in-love with him, or did you not have enough faith in him? He _had_ come this far, after all.

“Listen,” he started, returning to kneel at your feet, hand hesitatingly reaching to cover and comfort yours. "Whatever happens, we’re in this together.”

A ghost of a smile appeared, but your frown remained. “And I will do anything to get you out of here as safe as possible. I just don’t know if that includes V. Why do you think V told us to stay, then?”

You thumbed over his hand as you spoke, Vanderwood trying to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks. It was ridiculous, you both already admitted you loved each other, so why did such a single touch make him feel like he was a teenager? He tried to give you his full attention, but your lips were just as distracting as your hand. _It isn’t the time_ , he reminded himself.

“V knows this place, he even lets himself get thrown in cells…I think if we leave, something worse will happen.”

His eyes darted to your nose, to the bite on your neck. Worse…

Worse was not possible, he would die before anyone touched you again.

“When I first got here,” you said with a wince that didn’t go unnoticed, “V told me what to do. I didn’t listen, that’s why I’m hurt.”

“No.”

“No?”

He couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth.

“You’re hurt because _Saeran_ ,” Vanderwood didn’t bother to hide the disgust in his voice when he said his name, “hurt you.”

You started to shake your head, it broke his heart.

“I, um, I know this sounds weird but…”

No. No, no, don’t say it.

“I don’t think it’s completely his fault. Rika did something to him, and he’s on these…drugs or whatever. Certain things upset him, it’s not random. I think he needs help, just like everyone else.”

He stood up slowly and made his way to the window, looking down at the garden. It was getting dark, no Believers in sight.

 

“Vandy?” You didn’t know what he was thinking, he only spoke about escaping Magenta. You two hadn’t even discussed the extent of his cuts and injuries, but you had a good idea who gave them to him. There was a certain cruel man here who had a fixation on your relationship. You felt guilty—you had no idea what he’d done to even get this far. A notification from your phone got your attention, you promptly replied. It was an automatic response now, the only thing you could do for days on end—like a game, you had to just keep playing till the end. Like a game, it wasn’t enjoyable anymore, just something you felt compelled to do without much thought into why you were even doing it.

Vanderwood didn’t respond, his expression unrecognizable from behind. You weren’t sure whether to give him space to process your defense of the madman who had abused you, or to go hug him and let him know you were still sane.

 _If_ you were still sane.

“Do you know what he told me, when we were alone?” Vanderwood sighed, still not turning around.

“Nothing good,” you admitted.

“He said you love his visits, that you’ve stopped resisting his advances when he…licks you. He said you like him, even though he broke your nose.”

Your breath hitched and you closed your eyes, trying to forget every time he visited you. Your skin burned in every place he had ever touched you.

He finally turned to you, his expression unreadable.

“Vanderwood, I don’t…I don’t have Stockholm, I don’t like him, he…”

He shook his head and approached you. You were scared, terrified even of what he was implying.

Vanderwood reached down and brushed your cheek with a single hand, his eyes now melting into yours. He was _staring_ at you.

“I know, babe. I know. It’s ok…I just wanted you to know, that he thinks…highly of you.” He didn’t mention the cameras, or that Saeran had seen you naked. You wondered if he knew. You wanted to tell him everything, but you doubted you could do it without crying. It was a dirty secret, something that felt unreal just like everything else that happened to you the past week and if you opened your mouth to tell, it would feel real. And you didn’t want real—you didn’t want to relive any of it.

“I don’t care that he hurt me,” Vanderwood continued. “I care that he hurt you. And I can’t bring myself to forgive him, no matter what his circumstance is. Do you understand me?”

You pushed your cheek deeper into the warmth of his caressing hand and nodded.

“So we stay the night, and then what? Let them do whatever they’re doing at the RFA party? Be hostages forever?” He sighed. “I don’t think my boss would like that, I’m still on-call,” he added, a small smile forming. You smiled back.

“I love you,” he declared, the smile disappearing into a more serious expression. He removed his hand from your face and walked over to the wall, peering at it.

“I love you, too?” You responded, wondering what he was doing.

He suddenly punched the wall, you jumped. The pink paint caved in, he pulled out the crumbling infrastructure. Wires.

“The cameras!”

He nodded, yanking the couple of black wires out of the wall.

“You knew?”

“I know the general vicinity, don’t care enough to try and find the specific location of the individual cameras. It’s quicker to just remove the wires. Problem solved.”

You bit your lip. What a smart man—it was an unintentional turn-on.

He walked to another location, closer to the door, and did the same. He only had to punch once, it was impressive.

“I destroyed the control room, but all hackers have a secondary, back-up location. I don’t want him spying on us,” he explained, tossing the wires to the corner of the room.

“If we’re going to stay here as willing hostages, I want privacy.”

He walked back to the bed and stripped himself of the robe. Briefly, you could see the cuts on his abdomen as he pulled it off.

“Are you alright?” Some of those cuts might be deep, was he bleeding through? Worry overcame you.

“I’ve had far worse happen to me in a bar,” Vanderwood confirmed, his face completely serious.

“I’m guessing that wasn’t a joke?” You asked, trying to smile, but half-assing it.

He crawled onto the bed and patted for you to lay beside him. You obliged, and he pulled you into his chest.

“Not a joke,” he whispered, nuzzling his face into your hair. “If I can do this, I’m fine.”

You weren’t entirely convinced, but hugged him back. He held you tighter.

Vanderwood kissed the top of your head and massaged your back.

“MC…”

“Mm?” You said to acknowledge him, muffled into his chest.

“Did you miss me?”

You wormed your way out of his grip to look him in the eyes.

“Every day. I cried every day for you.”

Vanderwood didn’t seem happy to hear that, frowning and rubbing his hands down your arms.

“You don’t think I did?” You asked, confused by both the question and reaction.

“I…I thought maybe you’d even resent me,” he huffed out, eyes escaping yours.

“Why?”

“For leaving you in the apartment. I thought maybe after this you’d…regret trying to get involved in crazy shit like this. Maybe you’d think it isn’t worth it, after all. Because really, it’s not.”

“Stark,” you said, mustering the bravest voice you could think of. The name got his attention, surprise in his pupils.

“I wouldn’t regret being with you no matter what. You are worth it. Always.”

His eyes softened, his hands stopped on your arms.

“You’re really something, huh?”

You pushed your face into his, forgetting the pain of your nose until it started burning. But you needed this. You kissed him as deep as you could, as if it was the last time. You needed him to know—he needed to _understand_ how you felt.

He accepted you after a moment of hesitation, mouth opening to accept your warm (albeit a bit dry) tongue to tease into his own.

“MC,” he seemed to whisper into you. You shivered.

You heaved yourself over him without breaking the kiss, gripping his shirt and pulling him upwards to meet your mouth. His arms moved to your lower back, you pushed forward until his hands were all the way to your bottom. Vanderwood gripped your ass and you huffed into his mouth. His hands tightened on you, and you didn’t hide your arousal as you grinded just slightly onto his pants.

You almost forgot about the cuts till he winced. You promptly let go of his shirt and sat back.

Lust. That’s what was in his eyes. You could only imagine what was in yours, since you prompted it.

He sighed and leaned his head back, closing his eyes, hands still gripping your ass just as firmly as before.

You grinded his small hard-on just barely to get his attention. His eyes fluttered open again.

“I’m going to take care of you as soon as we escape here. So don’t doubt that I want to escape Magenta,” you grinned. He returned the grin, sitting up and smothering your face with pecks. Vanderwood kissed down your neck, then hesitated.

Oh, the bite.

But then he kept going, his tongue smoothing over where Saeran had attacked you. It was enough to make you cry, but you held yourself together.

“You don’t have to do that,” you muttered.

He shook his head against you and continued, his warm lips brushing all around your shoulders and neck. He wrapped his arms around your back and pulled the two of you to the bed, laying with each other in an embrace once more.

It was peaceful, minutes passed between the two of you. You could almost relax, but you’d been here long enough to fear Saeran walking through the door at any moment. With that in consideration, it was a good thing you both stopped.

“So…Rika’s alive, huh?” He murmured.

You chuckled.

“Yeah, apparently she is.”

“And Seven has a crazy twin. That I want to destroy.”

You tried to look up, he held you in place.

“Relax, I won’t kill him.”

You sighed and squeezed him.

“Probably,” he added.

You groaned and he laughed, the rumble of his chest resonating deep in your own. You smiled against your will. Safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this chapter was kinda long, but you should've assumed so.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed it! I don't know if the last chapter will end up as long, but it will also be pretty...drastic. And it will take awhile to come out, too. Sorry!
> 
> I have a surprise though, hehe! Look forward to it <3
> 
> Also, wow, I write wayyy too much Saeran, sorry about that :(. Feel free to interpret Zen/Jaehee as you will. Are they...an OTP? BrOTP? The world may never know!


	11. Day 11 - Good Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day of the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ (Please read the end notes for announcements!)

The rustling had woken her up against her will. Elizabeth the 3rd stretched and shook, her shining white fur shedding a few, delicate strands on the couch. It was too early for Jumin to be awake, and she stared. Even the sun wasn’t peaking from beyond the curtains, it was unnatural. He wasn’t well and she could feel it. It was time to get to work, then.

She mewed for his attention, but he didn’t acknowledge her, sitting at his desk and scribbling haphazardly with heavy strokes. That wouldn’t do. She strolled to the end of the couch and leaped to the desk, graceful and confident as always. It was uncomfortable here, with the papers underneath her paws, but now she had his full attention. She mewed again and pawed at his sleeve.

He smiled and she purred in satisfaction. Elizabeth the 3rd sunk her head into his hand, suggesting for a pet. He obliged, but his hand was heavy. Something must truly be wrong. Was he dying?

The beginning of an annoying noise from the phone distracted him away from her once more. It was her most hated sound, it always preceded him leaving. Jumin looked over at it, but surprisingly, did not pick it up. It kept ringing and she suppressed the urge to leap on top of it, knowing from experience attacking the durable object did nothing to mute the noise.

He leaned back in the chair and she used the opportunity to make herself comfortable on his chest. She closed her eyes, relishing his hand as it curved over her body. He was relaxing, but even this didn’t seem to fix everything as usual. Elizabeth the 3rd purred louder, and propped herself up to smooth her tongue over his face.

_There, there._

She was here. They were family, and as long as they had it each other, they could find happiness.

The phone rang out loudly again, he reached over to pick it up this time. Elizabeth the 3rd let him know with a low meow how much she didn’t approve. With a sigh, he held it to the side of his face she was not tending to. When she was done cleaning him here, she would move over and try to remove the device herself.

“Yes, this is Jumin Han. Ah.”

He leaned forward. She paused for just a lick to keep her balance.

“Is this indisputable? Alright, yes I understand. I’m prepared to go now. Yes, I know. But I have to be there, my friend is there. Understood. Thank you, please let me know immediately if there are any new contacts or updates. Alright. Goodbye.”

His hand moved to place it down, but it slipped from his fingers and landed with a clank on the desk. Jumin’s hands gently found themselves on her backside as he returned to the comfortable spot leaning back in the chair. His furry caretaker slid over to clean the other side of his cheek and he closed his eyes.

A salty taste made her nose turn, but she continued. He was crying.

_There, there._

She was here. As long as he had family, there was no need to be upset.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

It felt so long since you had the dream—but there you were, watching the backs of the RFA members as the stars twinkled above and you stood on dewy grass. The dream felt like the resurgence of an old friendship, albeit a complicated relationship. This time, it was eerily silent, no wind rustling or semblance of realness to make you want to reach out for the attention of anyone.

Someone was missing, though. You counted—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven…seven? How was someone missing if there was seven, wasn’t there someone extra? You counted again. Even though they were only the current RFA members, your heart and eyes still searched for Vanderwood. Something was wrong.

Were there two Sevens?

One of them turned around when the thought crossed your mind, despite you saying nothing. His mint eyes were unmistakable, unnatural and glowing like candles in the distance. You spun on your heel to escape, but there was nothing behind you. It was a dark void, the end of the flat Earth that threatened to crumble more if you simply prodded the dirt. A shooting star zapped through the void, briefly illuminating a whole universe of stars as if they were hidden behind a curtain. What was up and down was confusing. You rotated back, there was no one now but you and Saeran.

He was dressed as Seven still, but now his hair was snow with pinkish splatters, carved into thin icicles to resemble a human hairstyle. He took a single step forward, but somehow crossed the entire plain to be in front of you. You were trapped. You had nowhere to go, but down—or up? Should you risk it? He was only two arms’ lengths away now.

Your hesitation made it painfully clear how hard it was getting to breathe. The oxygen was thinning quicker than Saeran’s fast approaching hands, reaching out to do something unimaginable with the power of the dreamscape on his side. He was turning clear all over—becoming fully ice.

You had to try.

You took the leap down into the abyss of the twinkling sky, only to fall upwards. A glance gave you a peek of Saeran’s ice form taking a single step over the plain’s edge, instantly melting as if it were approaching a sun itself. You opened your mouth to scream, but it was lost in the winds of your violent twists and turns. Against any laws of physics you knew, you fell faster and faster, passing unconscious Believers with cloudy eyes, bloody faces, bullet holes in their heads—dead Believers, not unconscious—until you crashed into a starry sea.

Underwater, you couldn’t even hear yourself scream. What should have been a stream of bubbles erupting from your mouth were lukewarm, miniature balls of light. You tried to swim for the surface, but it never comes. The sea became heavy and you grow still, unable to move anymore. You fall with the invisible weights that have attached themselves to your being.

A slimy, quick brush of your arm caught your attention, but you can’t turn your head to see what it is. The brush comes back, then grips you. It’s boney, a skeleton’s hand.

Another gripped your other shoulder, and you want to scream again, but your mouth is now too heavy to move. You had no visual or auditory justification for the feeling, but you know more are coming. They’re not the things dragging you down, but they’re still dangerous. You felt a skeleton’s head clack against the back of yours and a rumble leave its non-existent throat.

“Wake up.”

Your eyes shot open with a gasp and you stifled a small scream, trying to remove the hands on your shoulders. But they kept you in place.

“Ssh, it’s alright, you were having a bad dream, you’re awake now.”

Vanderwood.

You hastily rubbed the sleep from your face and turned to see him, curiosity shining through his slightly droopy brown eyes. He hadn’t slept well.

“Vandy,” you mumbled, the anxiety of both vividly remembering the dream and remembering your situation combining.

You watched his finger brush your hair back and tried to give him a smile. He didn’t return it.

“They’ll come for us today.”

“The party’s today,” you nod. God. The party was _today_? Rika and Saeran had told you nothing about your role, were you expected to attend and just know what the hell was going on?

“You won’t be attending,” Vanderwood said, shifting on the bed and fingers wandering over your face.

“Right,” you hummed, closing your eyes and relaxing into his touch. “But I don’t think going to the window will work this time.”

“There are no plans where you do something dangerous. No windows.”

His voice was stern—you frowned, but lit up again. “Are you saying you have a plan?”

His stars trailed over your face and he sighed. “Nothing concrete. There was no plan involving me staying here with you.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry.” Had you ruined everything? You thought of V. No harm had come to the two of you since he left, so you had thought that was for the best. But Vanderwood didn’t tell you what he did to get here, and the longer you two were alone the more nervous you were getting.

“It’s fine. Because V’s been here longer, you trusted him more than me. I can accept that,” Vanderwood murmured.

Your eyes flashed open wide and you sat up. “No! No, I just…You didn’t have all of the facts, of course I trust you more.”

He continued to lay there, arm still outstretched on the bed to touch your face even though it was too far.

“It’s not too late to go now. They’ll be busy leaving for the party, it’s still very early,” he suggested, although there was no eagerness in his voice.

You laid back down and gently tugged his hand back to your face. Vanderwood thumbed over your cheeks again absentmindedly, the rough grooves soothing you into a sleepy state all over again.

“Well, what do you want to do?” You decided on.

He finally gave a small smile. “Nothing good, nothing I think you’d approve of.”

You bit your lip. “Mm, Vandy…what did you do to get here?”

His thumb hesitated, then continued its gentle strokes.

“Nothing good, nothing I think you’d approve of,” he teased, planting a tender kiss on your forehead.

You pouted, he smiled wider.

“I’ll tell you everything once we’re out of here, alright? I don’t want you distracted, just focus on yourself.”

You shook your head and he sighed, pulling you into his chest.

_Knock knock._

You didn’t mean for the whine to escape, but it still slipped out into his shirt. Was it Saeran? Icy arms reaching out for you flooded your thoughts, freezing you against the comfort of his chest. Vanderwood tensed, suddenly turning from a defined, sturdy cushion to solid muscle. He let you go quickly before swinging himself over the edge of the bed and standing up. He reached under the pillow and pulled out a small piece of wood that was sharpened on the ends.

When the hell did he get that? You glanced around the room, wondering where he pulled it from and how he even sharpened it like that.

“We have guns, don’t do anything hasty,” a man’s voice called.

“Hide behind the bed,” Vanderwood commanded, still approaching the door.

“Vanderwood, the gun, don’t…”

“Now,” he said, louder.

It wasn’t a request, it was an order. It scared you, but you did as you were told and dived to the other side of the bed, squeezing your eyes shut and praying not to hear gunshots.

The masculine voice spoke up again. “We’re opening the door now, our guns are drawn and we have permission to fire.”

You heard the door start to creak open and then the man scream.

One gunshot, two gunshots, shuffling noises.

You covered your ears and felt your body shake. Oh god, was Vanderwood alright? You couldn’t move, you couldn’t check, you couldn’t _breathe_. The faint gurgle of Gally made your eyes shoot open just in time to see movement by the window. You flinched as it opened, a graceful woman flipped inside and pointed her own gun at you with no hesitation. She knew you would be there. She was dressed in a skintight suit, and her green eyes were cold, but unfocused. Another drugged Believer.

You were going to die. Your lip trembled, you couldn’t even tell her ‘no’ like you wanted.

But she looked away from you in Vanderwood’s direction, and cocked the gun, the click seeming so loud up close.

The room seemed to still. Whatever Vanderwood was doing stopped, the shuffling noises becoming ragged gasps for air.

It stretched for a few beats before a gentle woman’s voice broke the tension. “Lower your weapon.”

Rika. It was Rika’s voice.

“Vandy,” you croaked out. The woman in front of you faced you again, her eyes narrowing.

“Lower it!” Rika screeched, her tone completely different from even a second ago.

“Good, now stand in the corner. We have a party to attend.”

A beat.

“Now!”

Vanderwood came into view from your spot on the floor and stood in the opposite end’s corner. He didn’t look at you, ever gazing in Rika’s direction. But even from there, you could see the wet red on his cheek.

Rika’s voice softened, got lower. “Can you stand? It’s alright, you did your best. Go now, get treated. You, get the gun and sharp object. Good.”

A small groan, then silence once more.

“Bring the party coordinator, it’s time to go.”

The Believer nodded her head at you, motioning you to get up and menacingly waving the gun in an upwards motion. You looked past her to Vanderwood, who was still fixated. He was a leopard, ready to pounce from his position if anyone was foolish enough to give him a centimeter of an opportunity.

“Now,” she sighed. You stood and observed the situation. Rika stood next to a tall Believer who held the gun and stick in his hands. That was two people with weapons who could instantly kill you or Vanderwood.

Rika was dressed in a flowing, yellow dress, her hair nicely trimmed and curled. She smiled at you, no malice in her expression, as if she was seeing an old friend. “My, you’re not even dressed to go. It’s alright, we can wait a few minutes. Please, put on your dress, I’ll fix your hair in the car.”

You grimaced, disgusted with how sincere she sounded, further amplified when you noticed the crimson drops on the floor and smeared on the door and knob. The woman shoved you forward to get you moving. You marched to the closet and stood.

“Hurry now, we don’t want to use force on you, not on your big day,” she cooed.

You wanted to yell at her, but chose not to, stealing one more glance at Vanderwood who even then had his eyes focused on the cult leader.

You opened the closet and saw the dress, still in its bag. You checked to see the woman with the gun, Rika, and man with the gun staring at you, waiting. You were to clothe yourself in front of them. You swallowed and reached for the dress. Even with the eyes on you in the room, the weapons drawn, and Vanderwood backed into a corner, none of it invoked as much humiliation as Saeran. And you hated that he invaded your thoughts even now.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

“Thank you.”

He had thanked at least five Believers this morning, feigning simplicity and forgetfulness to gather bits of information that Rika wouldn’t give him. He was sweating, running out of time. The party was today, and everything was going according to plan—despite his attempts to slow it. Rika was efficient, and she didn’t tell him details he didn’t need to know. He had proven time and time again that his loyalty was shaky.

He went into the nearest bathroom as the Believer he had just thanked disappeared around the corner. He shakily moved to turn the knobs, sighing when he hit his hand the first attempt. Everything was blurry. It was a good description for his life right now. His vision was blurry, his motivations hazy, his spirit shaky, and his plan debatable at best. He splashed water on his face and looked into the mirror, wiping away drops and moving to fix his suit’s collar.

He was the leader of the RFA, so of course he had to be there. Rika didn’t want him to, but she agreed that he could come in the late car. He was not to be there when the party started. But the situation had changed, he didn’t want to be there either. He wouldn’t be able to stop Rika taking MC to the party, but at least if he rescued Vanderwood and brought him to the party with him he’d probably be able to do something. It would solve many problems at once by removing the active, important hostage. But the man had killed someone, it was a bit of a gamble to see how he’d comply. V was doubting himself after Vanderwood’s outburst when he had closed the door. It couldn’t be helped, he didn’t have time to explain that Rika would’ve ordered him and you killed if he tried to escape with you, and that she might’ve fast-tracked the plans as a result. Rika was dangerous, but she wasn’t lethal unless it threatened Mint Eye’s infiltration of the party. The apartment, ultimately, wasn’t the only place that had bombs in it. No matter how good Vanderwood was, according to the Believers who survived the encounter with him, he wasn’t going to survive a bombing.

But more than that, he had to get in contact with Luciel. He hadn’t been able to speak with him lately and knew he must be worried. He could only imagine what the RFA—especially Yoosung—must be saying about him. And thanks to his lies and hesitation, they were all in danger beyond his control now.

Regardless, there was no more room to stall, he had to tell Luciel. Rika was not going to compromise, she had made that abundantly clear this week. But maybe…

He went into a stall and dialed, nervously shuffling his feet as it rang. On the second ring, it picked up. It was both a relief and distress.

“V,” Seven breathed out, excitement jumping in his voice. It startled V, but also made him brighten. Excitement meant good news, right?

“Luciel, I’m sorry I didn’t reach out before…today’s the party,” V stated, it sounding more like a confession than an observation.

“Yes…but I’m almost there. I’m almost at Magenta.”

His shuffling ceased.

No. So he knew it all, then. Luciel couldn’t be here, he needed to be at the party to help stop Rika. Saeran had probably already left for the backups in the city, but even the possibility that he hadn’t froze him. Of course, he had to tell him today, but if they could just wait until Rika was stopped, things would go better. He expected Luciel to hate him after what he was about to say, but the RFA’s safety was the priority now. He had to swallow his pride.

“No, Luciel, I need you to go to the party. Something is going to happen, you have to help stop it. The hacker is going to attack again, too, while the party is going on.”

Of course he was. Saeran researched each guest as they were approved, but he was going to be active to circumvent any outside communication or interferences. No one but the people there would know what was happening, even if they tried to use their phones to call for help or broadcast information.

“It’s alright, V, I understand now what’s happening with you. And I’m not going to leave you behind. You, me, Vanderwood, MC, we’ll all get out of this together. I promise.”

The poor, sweet boy.

“Luciel, you don’t understand…After today, you might hate me forever, but just know I did it out of love. I never meant to hurt anyone.”

“V, what are you talking about? What’s happening? Don’t do anything rash!”

He had to say it. Just one word. Just _one_ word.

“Rika.”

It fell off his lips like bitter milk, dripping out of him, disgust painted on his paling face.

Luciel hesitated on the line. “Yes…Rika…”

“I did it for Rika.”

He couldn’t say it. He felt absolutely pathetic. There was no point in hiding anything, everyone would know, but it was too rough in his throat. V was on the verge of panicking. He thought he heard a door creak and sneaked a glance through the bathroom stall’s cracks. Nothing. It was his imagination, the stress turning into paranoia.

“V…I’m nearly there. I can see the white top of the building. It’s too late. I may as well take you with me to the party. Do you understand?”

He sighed.

“Yes, you’re right. Luciel, listen carefully then. I will tell you where to meet me.”

He could do this, he could disconnect the cameras leading to Vanderwood just like he practiced. If everything went according to plan, Saeran wouldn’t see them.

On the other line, the redhead nodded. In V’s best interest, he didn’t mention that Jumin and a force of elites were also fast approaching the building. V, Vanderwood, and MC would be rescued together, and he was prepared to face whatever was keeping them as willing hostages.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

Jumin Han certainly was strange. The man didn’t need to vocalize that he was distressed, his actions told Driver Kim all he needed to know. Last minute changed plans, cancellations, calls in the middle of the night, all of these things he was used to in his previous job. But not with the meticulous and calculating Jumin Han of C&R. Many times he wondered if he should ask him about it, but he didn’t want to overstep his boundaries. It was hard to describe their relationship, admittedly. Mr. Han didn’t tell him about his personal life and didn’t ask about his, but they were always comfortable in each other’s presence. Mr. Han was considerate, even if erratic in his requests, and sometimes even asked Driver Kim if he was willing to complete the more long distance travels. Very rarely had he ever said no, and Mr. Han never questioned his reasons as to why if he did. There was trust between them, a reassuring presence where they didn’t feel the need to fill the silence of the car even if the medium stayed open.

During Christmas time, they always exchanged gifts and few words. It was always so formal, but so familiar. Without a doubt, Jumin Han and his RFA friends were his favorites, even if they didn’t know it.

Despite how sick he was starting to feel, it was that connection that made him say ‘yes’ to the desperate early morning request.

He dropped off Mr. Han down the street from the C&R building, no questions asked, before heading to Jaehee Kang’s house. Honestly, he should’ve gone back to sleep, but he felt the need to be there for them. Something was wrong, and he would do everything in his power to help his employer and his associates. He smiled. He knew the term he wanted to use. Extended family, distant relatives. The feeling was familial. They were all so young with big dreams, they reminded him of himself at a young age.

The old man checked his favorite silver watch as he gently pulled to the curb. It was old-fashioned, a gift from a long-gone friend older than he. Driver Kim was 8 minutes early, meaning Jaehee Kang wouldn’t be outside for another 3 minutes. Ms. Kang tried to be 5 minutes early, while Mr. Han was always right on-the-dot. He smiled and waited, adjusting the car’s air conditioning to how she usually preferred, a few degrees cooler.

But not even a minute passed before he saw her exit the elevator door, closely followed by two bodyguards and heading quickly towards the car.

Another person in distress, it seemed. He exited the vehicle and gave her his best smile. “Ms. Kang, the dress suits you.” Driver Kim wasn’t necessarily trying to cheer her up or distract her, but her outfit for the party genuinely _did_ fit her well. She looked gorgeous and reminded him of his granddaughter. Her hair was short unlike the previous assistants, but it was the soft yet authoritative voice from her that really set her apart. He knew the first time he met her that she was here to stay. He didn’t know her then, but still felt a sense of pride. Jumin Han had chosen wisely, he only hoped the man didn’t burden her too much or scare her off.

“Thank you,” she smiled, her half-closed eyes the only thing showing him how tired she was. Her makeup was perfect, probably covering baggy eyes.

He opened the door for her and the bodyguards and waited for them to pack in before returning to the front and strapping back in.

He appreciated having immunity to full body searching, by order of Jumin Han. It made his job much less stressful. He watched from the mirror as Jaehee Kang awkwardly tried to get comfortable between the two large men around her.

“Ms. Kang, would you like to sit in the front? The air conditioning here is better, I don’t want to melt your makeup.”

He had never asked it of her before, but this way she wouldn’t have to suffer for the car ride. He wasn’t an expert in bodyguard etiquette, but surely they would allow this.

She wasn’t sure either, by the glance she gave the two. One exited to let her out, answering both of their questions. Driver Kim quickly shuffled to the passenger side and opened the door for her once more. She sat down with a content smile, giving him an appreciative nod.

“Ah, thank you,” she murmured as Driver Kim returned to the driver’s seat.

“Of course.”

The ride was pleasant and quiet, the usual.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

Vanderwood blamed himself. How was he supposed to know Mint Eye had a fucking wall-climbing _acrobat_ in their cohort? He should’ve looked you in the eye, he should’ve told you it would be alright, but he was radio-silent the entire time you stripped down and dressed yourself for the party. It was almost literal, static seeming to buzz in his ear as he thought of all the ways he might kill Rika. He had made a single mistake, but he wasn’t going to make one again. Seven’s friends, or ex-friends, could not be trusted. Where the hell was V, if he was supposedly helping them? It was a trap, an easy trick to get them to stay for the party. And he had fallen for it. If you were anyone else, Vanderwood would’ve dismissed the plea to stay and had all of this nonsense resolved already.

He decided not to punch the wall, he had to conserve energy and concentrate. He knew they were waiting outside the door, but not in arm’s reach. They learned their lesson last time, they wouldn’t casually walk in—not if they wanted their arm slammed into the door and to get beaten into a pulp. He had only not cracked the man’s neck on the off-chance you were peeking around the bed. You didn’t need to see something so ugly. Protecting you meant more than just physically to him.

He had to find a way out, now. How good were the guards’ aim? Vanderwood didn’t want to underestimate them again, that was the reason you were gone in the first place. Rika knew they were outmatched, so played dirty. A devil with an angel’s smile. He found himself grinning, urges he didn’t often feel manifesting in new, strange ways. He’d send her back to Hell.

Vanderwood peaked out the window. He wasn’t confident in his flexibility or finger strength, it wasn’t a real option to climb down, but he still considered it. If he climbed halfway down and fell, he could still get by on a broken leg...maybe. He glanced back at the bed. There weren't nearly enough sheets—assuming they were strong enough to hold him in the first place—to try and make a makeshift rope. Movement caught his attention, he squinted to see what looked like something leaving quickly. It had to be cars, humans didn’t run that fast. You were gone by now, surely. His hand clenched on the window seal, the pale blue of the sky was too blue, the clouds too fluffy, the sunshine too bright, and overall the outside was just too damn happy. He would need to find transportation in addition to leaving this room. Shit, _shit_. How was he supposed to that? Not on a broken leg, that’s for sure.

The man returned to the bed and threw the pillows off. Two more sharpened sticks lay there at his disposal, ones he had crafted from edges of loose bed frame and scissors from the closet during the night. Just in case. They were for him, because he had full intentions of giving you his taser to defend yourself. He had concealed it, not using it this entire time, hoping that in the chaos they wouldn’t realize it had returned to his hands. It worked.

But once again, you were gone, so it didn’t matter. Were you with Rika and Saeran right now? He gritted his teeth. _Saeran._ Would he be with his backups or tormenting you again, the sick stalker?

“I’m sorry,” he said to you, although you weren’t there.

“I’m sorry,” he said to Seven, although he had no idea where he was either. He didn’t know if the younger agent would risk infiltrating, he probably needed backup.

He apologized to the only two people would gave a damn about him in his head, because what he was about to do was _very_ stupid.

He picked up the two sticks and stuffed them in his pockets. With a small grumble, his eyes leered around the room. There. He went to place in the wall near the back of the room where wires were still protruding. Vanderwood looked at them individually before finding one still in-tact. Perfect. He pulled out the taser and bit his lip. This would work.

He put it on a low setting, he didn’t need to drain the battery for no reason, especially since he didn’t know how much he’d need to use it today. He stuck the tip to the protruding wire and squeezed. The electricity seemed to jump between the wires, but he kept it going until he saw the spark. A low ember began. He snatched his arm back and blew on the coils before returning the taser to his coat pocket and dashing to the bed. He ripped off a thin sheet and returned to the small glow, placing the sheet near it. It began to burn, and he waited until a full flame was apparent. He went around the back of the room, touching the burn to all its two corners and then tossing the sheet back onto the bed. It would take a while to encompass the room in flame, but he didn’t have time to make sure the fire took.

Vanderwood returned to the closet and carefully tugged along the door’s edges. He could do it. Although it was an awkward angle, he gripped the looser sides and took a deep breath. Then, he heaved.

It was slow and would be a lot easier to just kick through, but he needed the whole door intact. With a grunt, he heard the first snap. He changed positions, the strain in his hands going ignored as he tugged again.

Ugh.

He let go and pulled out a stick, returning to pound the blunt sides of the wood against the hinges to loosen them.

“What’s going on in there?” One of the guards asked through the main door.

He didn’t catch what direction it came from, but ignored it regardless. They’d see soon enough.

Another snap, it was nearly off now and starting to wobble.

“Hey, don’t make us come in there,” he warned.

Vanderwood rolled his eyes, the panic was obvious in the other’s tone and the agent was _largely_ unconcerned.

The door snapped off the last hinge, a metal bolt clanked as it fell to the door. It wasn’t too heavy, but the bulk of it made carrying the door difficult. He laid it beside the room’s entrance and gave himself a moment to reconsider.

Moment over.

“I’m coming out now,” Vanderwood called. If he was lucky, the two (probably, _vastly_ ) inexperienced Believers would be directly in front of the door instead of at the sides. If they were at the sides, he’d only have protection on one end and ruin his plan. And of course, his idiotic plan needed idiotic participants.

“Vanderwood, we _do_ have permission to kill,” the other man’s voice reminded him.

_As do I._

They might shoot at the door, he had one chance.

He stood to the side of the room’s door and took a deep breath. Everything was going to be OK.

Vanderwood kicked at the bolt on the door, then kicked again. The door went flying open. As expected, gunshots began. They all came from one direction. Thank goodness. Vanderwood picked up the closet door and ran out in their direction. A few seconds and he collided with a heavy object. But only one. He tossed the closet door to fall on the man he knocked over and turned to the one who had sidestepped.

His heart was throbbing, reckless and loud as the only sound he could hear. He progressed purely on instinct, the Believer’s face completely unrecognizable in the red haze clouding his vision. Everyone was an enemy now that you were gone, there was no holding back or trying to be quiet or cautious.

He was sure he yelled, but there was no time to think about if it was a delusion or not. Vanderwood grabbed the man’s arm and twisted it completely backwards. If he could hear any sounds, he would’ve twisted his face in disgust from the inhuman scream and crack of bone he had elicited. The gun fell from his grasp, Vanderwood continued with two knees to his groin. The man doubled over. Vanderwood didn’t have time to finish him, he turned back to the fallen man who was pushing the closet door off of himself. Vanderwood jumped and stomped a boot on top of the spot where the man’s head was underneath, then stomped again and again until his boot crashed through the wood and the man went still.

Vanderwood picked up the gun still in the man’s hand and pointed it at the other Believer, still doubled over on the floor.

Should he shoot him?

He could kill them both for participating in this nonsense. Two less people to worry about coming after the two of you.

Vanderwood didn’t have time to waste on them, but the urge from before was spreading to everyone at Mint Eye. He was losing control in his...anger? Was this anger? An image of your face cooled him down, although strangely he was beginning to feel ice in his upper body. He didn’t need to kill anymore, these people were victims of Rika and their own bad decisions, not cold-blooded mass murders like he was used to.

The gun clacked out of his hand to the floor. What?

He went to pick it up, but his fingers didn’t respond to grip it. Oh.

Vanderwood’s eyes trailed up his arm until he turned his head to view his shoulder, the black material now a solid red. Blood. He’d been hit. He didn’t feel it, couldn’t even tell if it was a graze or something deeper. But now, he understood why his top half was feeling chilly.

It didn’t matter, there were no medical supplies here to treat it regardless. He used his other arm to pick up the gun. It wasn’t an issue, he’d been trained to use nearly every limb to fire.

“Give me your cloak,” Vanderwood demanded of the man that he now realized was crying—probably from his broken arm.

The man looked up at him, eyes wide. He was now a person again, the red of Vanderwood’s vision back to normalcy. “I-I can’t, my arm…”

The Believer’s arm was twisted, and it would definitely be painful to raise his arms and remove the cloak. But Vanderwood was all out of sympathy.

“I don’t care.” He fired a warning shot next to the man’s head, who shrieked and flinched, slamming his eyes shut and letting out a short sob.

He inwardly sighed. Fine, maybe he sympathized a little.

“Let’s compromise.”

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

Rika was adequately prepared, giving you food and water in the car, both of them soothing the soreness in your throat and stomach. And you hardly complained when Rika covered your bite marks and bruised nose with makeup. It wasn’t a coincidence that she had your exact shade, and you were more than a little relieved no one would have to see just what you’d been dealing with. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed—it wasn’t your fault after all—but you wouldn’t be able to explain anyway. It was better to ignore it.

Rika ran her fingers through your hair, smoothly tugging away small tangles. It would be relaxing, a reminder of when you were a child, if not for the fact that she was a terrorist and you were here against your will. You were in the backseat of a small, but roomy van with tinted windows. To your left was Rika while an imposing Believer, dressed in a nice, brown suit, was to your right. The driver and passenger wore matching green colors, and you wondered if they were all the same brand but didn’t dare ask something so trivial.

You did nothing, staring out at the road through the front windows, thoughts of Vanderwood occupying your mind. There was nothing he could do there, you were a hostage for him and him a hostage for you. You only hoped the RFA was prepared. Vanderwood hadn’t told you much, just held you in his arms and promised your safety.

But here you were.

Your hand reached to scratch near your eyes, only pausing when the Believer to your right got tense. Rika didn’t notice, beginning to hum a gentle tune as she lifted your hair to form a bun.

“You look beautiful,” she giggled. You felt her move around your hair, trying to find just the perfect angle to frame your face. You tightened your jaw. You didn’t want anyone to touch you, you felt disgusting, utterly creeped out.

At least she didn’t bite you.

“You will do your regular duties when we get there, understand?”

_And what if I don’t?_

“Sure,” you said pointedly.

“I heard some of the guests were strange, but I know the RFA did their best. They’re always passionate, that’s what I like about them.” You felt her hands tighten around your hair as she began fastening the bun and squeezed your eyes shut.

_Stop touching me, stop touching me._

“Although I would like to remind you that if you don’t do your job, I’ll have to hurt Vanderwood. I don’t want to have to do that,” she sighed.

 _You don’t_ have _to you psychopath._

But you deflated. Yes, you would go through with it. You had no control here. You never had any control since you joined the RFA—not over your thoughts, your body, or your future.

You felt your hands finally leave you and relaxed. Out of the corner of your eye you saw her lean back, content with the bun, and turn her gaze to the window.

“It’s been so long, I can’t wait to see them again. I hope they’ll be just as happy to see me.”

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

“Nice cloak,” grinned Seven, eyes taking in the black-and-gold fabric in V’s arms. He involuntarily was still holding onto V’s shoulder after their embrace. He was scared to let him out of his sights again. He had a hunch V would be killed here, and he couldn’t let that happen.

“Luciel,” V began, ignoring the half-hearted compliment, “I need you to put it on.” He handed him the folded Believer’s cloak and glanced around.

“There’s not many Believers around now, but some of them are armed. It’s best not to draw attention to ourselves. They shouldn’t see your face.”

Seven nodded, taking a mental note. He didn’t bring his own gun with him, burying it near the premises. Although he would like the protection, Jumin’s team was coming and they would definitely charge him with illegal gun possession. And he didn’t need to be brought in for questions about how he got it, lest the Agency kill him before he even makes it inside the police precinct.

“Um, so wait, why are there so few here?”

“Already going to the party. MC is with them.”

Shit. He glanced at his watch. The situation had changed. Would it be too late to tell Jumin to send them back?

“V, wait, what are they planning to do at the party? How many of them are there?” Seven said, panic rising in his voice.

V frowned. “They call it paradise…they want to drug everyone there and make them come to Mint Eye. There will probably be about 30 of them infiltrating the actual party in the end.”

Seven whistled in his mind. “30…that’s…”

That’s impossible not to notice—but if they had you, he could understand the strategy. But as for the poison, how were they supposed to pull that off? They had checked and approved every caterer, so it couldn’t be the provided food or drinks. He must have missed something. Seven didn’t press further and sighed. Jumin would be there soon, if he called and warned him now, he didn’t know how V would react to the lie by omission. Taking Vanderwood’s words to heart, he still was in the dark on V’s circumstances for being here and didn’t want to rope him. The party didn’t open to the public for another 30 minutes. It was a small window, but he had faith. With all the hostages gone, they could finally stop the party.

He donned the cloak, impressed by the expensive feeling of the thick fabric. How the hell exactly did Mint Eye fund such custom designs and an entire castle? Jeez.

“Follow me, we’ll go to where they’re keeping him,” V mumbled.

“Aren’t they armed?” Seven questioned.

“I’ll talk to them,” V confirmed.

“Just talk and they’ll let him go?” Seven said, a smile slinking out.

V didn’t notice. “If that doesn’t work, will you help me?”

“Help you?”

V glanced away shyly.

Seven’s eyes widened. “Err, like, jump them?” A nervous laugh crept out.

V’s silence was damning. Seven’s smile fell away, his tone became serious again.

“Yes, of course.”

V nodded and stood straight. “Just follow me, don’t say anything or look at anyone, even if they say something to you.”

Seven hummed an acknowledgement and took a step forward, prompting V to begin the walk.

Would this be the first time, if they had to, that V had ever attacked anyone? It was a strange reality to be in, he hadn’t thought V was even capable of harming a fly, more likely to let it just eat him. But Seven did as he was told, silently following the suited man who lived in this strange world he had only just been introduced to. He checked his watch. Maybe 15 minutes, and Magenta would be shut down.

He could protect him for 15 minutes.

The place was nearly deserted, so Seven had to remind himself not to relax. They only passed two of the—as V called them—Believers, who hadn’t so much as glanced in either of their directions. He wished he had time to see their faces.

Seven remembered that he forgot to ask exactly when V was supposed to be leaving for the party, and why he hadn’t already. He assumed it wasn’t a choice.

V stilled at the entrance of a building. Seven held his tongue, although curiously peered over his shoulder. V continued to wait and Seven took a look around, although it was a little more obvious than he intended.

What a beautiful garden.

“I smell smoke,” V mumbled, taking a step back. Seven followed his finger, pointed at a window a few floors up. Small, but visible wisps of gray smoke were swirling out.

“What floor is that?” He asked, a shake in his voice.

“4th...is that where Vanderwood is?”

V answered with his panic, throwing open the doors and taking off in a run. Seven’s feet moved on their own—he had a hunch Vanderwood was the cause of the fire, but on the off-chance he wasn’t...The loss of the older agent would be the loss of a friend, his placement, his life here.

_10 minutes left._

V hesitated in the empty hall before a set of steps and Seven almost crashed into his side before peering up to see why he had stopped.

Vanderwood, sitting and hunching over at the top of the flight of stairs, leaned against the wall. Blood was seeping through a piece of torn Believer’s cloak wrapped around his shoulder.

The man tilted his head up to see the two shocked faces. Seven froze up—the glint in the man’s eyes was terrifying. He wasn’t sure how well V could see them, but for Seven it was clear; anger, hatred, and murderous intent were all encapsulated in molten gold, threatening to vaporize everything in its way. He spoke slowly, unsure exactly what it meant. He never encountered Vanderwood in a PTSD-induced hallucination, but he’d heard the stories of the agent in his early days. They weren’t pretty. To see it possibly happening again, now, here, was a nightmare. “Hey Mary, it’s Seven, I’m here now. We’ll leave together. Everything’s alright.” He struggled to remember his training, trying to project confidence and familiarity in his words. Shit, what was he supposed to do? Grounding? Grounding! “We’re in a castle, you’re not in danger. Your friends are here, nothing is happening to you. Look around, it’s just us.”

Vanderwood groaned as he stood, the non-bandaged arm raised. A gun.

“Mary, Vanderwood, it’s me, Seven, Luciel?” He repeated, panic rising, opening his empty palms outward. “You don’t need that thing with me.”

“Shut up. It’s not for you.”

The wounded agent wasn’t hallucinating. He understood the situation in an instant, dashing in-front of V as Vanderwood’s arm pointed the weapon in his direction. Seven shielded him with his body and stretched open his arms, the fear forgotten and spiraling to fury.

“Vanderwood! I swear to _God_!”

“Tell him, Jihyun Kim,” Vanderwood growled.

V flinched.

 “Tell him or I will!” He threatened, his voice raising.

“V what is he talking about? Is this about why you’re here? We’ll figure it out later!” He couldn’t believe Vanderwood would get so angry over this, he should know all about the impossible and strange at this point.

“About the boy and his master,” Vanderwood elaborated, the first step being taken down the stairs.

“What the hell are you talking about? V?”

Seven arched his head to the side to look back and encourage the man to finally speak, if only to calm down the dangerous, approaching man.

“Luciel, I’m so sorry,” V whispered from behind him.

Seven gulped. That couldn’t be good.

Vanderwood was running out of patience. His eyebrows furrowed, another step down the steps. “ _Saeran and Rika.”_

Seven slowly turned around. “W-what?”

V lowered his head and Seven gripped his arms. “V? What is he talking about? When Rika...did Saeran? No, no, V what the hell happened to Saeran? Where is he?” His voice was getting shaky, the tension and lack of answers giving him a new sense of nervousness.

His baby brother, his twin, his other half, his _reason for living_. He had to be alive, he felt it coursing through his veins and tingling in his bones. And more than that, V had told him he had taken care of Saeran since Rika parted. So what the hell could Vanderwood be on about?

“You stalling filth, just tell him before I fire warning shots into both of your arms.” Vanderwood took another step, slowly releasing a small grunt of pain.

“No!” Seven snapped with a quick glare over his shoulder. He knew beyond a doubt that Vanderwood was not joking.

“V, is Saeran alright?” He pried, slightly shaking the quiet man.

Saeran couldn’t be alright if he was brought up like this, but Vanderwood could be wrong, delusional, not have all the facts. Vanderwood had already shown he could be cocky when it came to assessing his friends. “V, please,” Seven whimpered. His brother, _his only brother_ , his family, the reason he did anything at all. “I know I’m not supposed to know where he is or anything, but V, just this once, please…”

 

“He’s alive,” V finally said, finding the courage to look into Luciel’s tearing eyes. “But he’s not alright. Rika, she…” He felt his gut was being ripped out of his stomach with the pained expression Luciel was now giving him. The shock from the admittance, followed up with the mention of Rika. Rika. _His_ Rika, his problem to deal with, his fault, his guilt. “Rika’s alive.” He blurted it out, knowing if he thought about it any longer he would say nothing at all.

Luciel’s grip loosened. “V? V come on, don’t do this to yourself, Rika, she...you were there, you saw her…”

“I made it up to protect her. None of it was true.”

Luciel shook his head. God, please don’t do that, don’t make it harder.

“Where is Saeran?” His tone shifted, Luciel’s worried expression starting to flat-line into something angrier, a quiet fire V couldn’t yet tell was determination- or fear-driven. He had lied, he had lied _so_ deeply. How could he do this to Luciel? Any of it, really? He was just a child when he got him out of that situation and into a potentially more dangerous one, and still just a young man when he allowed him to mourn over his fiancée for two, long years.

“Probably going for the backups so he can keep hacking away,” Vanderwood muttered loudly, one heavy step echoing.

“My brother is not the hacker,” Luciel hissed, the annoyance clear in the way he turned away to face the other agent once more. “Stay away from V.”

“He _is_ , Luciel,” V choked. His head was feeling aflame, the burn in his cheeks extending across his scalp and starting to trickle through his legs. At this point, he had no way of knowing if it was yet another side-effect of elixir or the emotional anguish he was currently going through.

“V, what are you saying!” He screamed, snapping his attention back. Luciel had never raised his voice at him before. It was painful, so painful, and nothing he could say was going to justify what he and Rika had done. Nothing he could do would quell the hurt in the golden eyes he’d come to love.

“He’s saying that he can't be trusted.” Another heavy step from the bleeding man, droplets left wherever he stood.

“Vanderwood, I swear if you do _anything_!” Even now, Seven was protecting him. He didn’t deserve him.

“You’ll what, Agent? Worry about Saeran, he and Rika are the ones I’m going after.”

“ _Excuse_ me?” A deep scoff.

“I’ll spare you the details of what he did to MC.” _His fault, his fault_. “Let’s get out of here before I bleed out, we have a party to attend.”

“Whatever you think Saeran did isn’t true. I know him, he would never hurt anyone.”

And Vanderwood laughed. V’s heart stung.

“Maybe in the past. He’s not the boy you used to know, idiot. He’s been brainwashed.”

“V, what…” Luciel trailed off, at a loss for words. V understood he was having a hard time grasping all the new information, especially with only verbal confirmation and no physical or digital evidence like he was accustomed to.

“Luciel, I’m so sorry you had to find out this way. But he’s right, we have to hurry to the party and to treat Mr. Vanderwood.”

Luciel shoved him away. It wasn’t aggressive, but he knew he was getting angry.

“Don’t pretend to care about me,” Vanderwood snarled. “I still haven’t decided if I want you and your whole gang dead or not.”

_5 minutes left._

Invisible daggers was only a partially true term, as Seven swore he could feel it cutting through him in the tense air to get to V. His mind couldn’t concentrate, two terrifying thoughts vibrating in his conscious—Something bad happened to Saeran and Vanderwood might actually kill V. But one of those was an immediate threat, he straightened up and tried to combat the tears that were brimming in his eyes.

There was no point in appealing to Vanderwood’s emotions regarding his relationship with the man, so Seven opted for the next best option. “Vanderwood, if you hurt V, I’m quitting the Agency immediately.” Vanderwood stopped, his icy glare shifting to meet his eyes. So, that got his attention. He licked his lips, attempting to put on a brave face. “They’ll reassign you, and you’ll never see her again.”

“They’d just torture you back into submission unless they opted to kill you,” Vanderwood retorted, a coolness to his tone that suggested careful consideration.

“Either them or you,” he nodded.

Vanderwood wouldn’t kill or torture him. He was 90-percent sure of it, anyway. With you in the picture, he didn’t know what the man was thinking anymore. He was thrown off once more when Vanderwood simply shrugged, no silent contemplation or argument.

“I’m quitting anyway, your threat means nothing. But fine, I’m not touching him until I get MC back, he might be useful.”

_What?_

He meant to say it out loud, but the sentence was so incredulous coming from Vanderwood that he wasn’t sure he should justify what was clearly a delusion with a response. If he didn’t know him, he’d think it was a blatant trick to get him to back off. At the very least, it meant one threat was temporarily gone, and he turned his attention to the second one.

“V, please be honest with me, how long has this been going on? How long has Saeran been in danger? Why didn’t you come to me?”

“At least a year,” Vanderwood hummed.

“I’m _not_ talking to you,” Seven spat. “How the hell would you even know that?”

“That’s how long he’s been stalking MC. I saw the pictures he had.”

“Two…years, he’s been with Rika. He’s been with Rika the whole time,” V whispered.

He took a step back. V had to be lying, even now. It was impossible, there was no one he trusted more than V and V wouldn’t do something so heinous. He would never betray him by lying about his brother for two years. He couldn’t understand what V was trying to say—what he was surely being _forced_ to say to him. Whatever V had done was to protect Saeran, that much he knew.

“What’s that noise?” Vanderwood groaned, falling to a knee and head turning back towards the doors.

They were finally here.

“I brought backup, we’re all leaving together.” He said it automatically, still trying to process what the hell was going on. He thought he’d find all the answers here, but all he got were more questions.

“Backup? Luciel what have you done?” V, beginning to hack into his suit’s sleeve. V pulled away, fresh blood trailed down his lips. The color drained from Seven’s face upon the sight. V began to walk towards the exit, with Seven close behind.

“Good,” Vanderwood groaned, leaving the last step and keeping a respectable distance from V. Seven appreciated it.

“I didn’t know your circumstances, V, so I couldn’t tell you. I know they’ve forced you here, but they can’t hurt you anymore. I promise. And they have Saeran, too, right?”

V shook his head and hacked again. More blood. Unintentionally, he felt the crack of his knuckles as he squeezed his fists in frustration.

“What do you mean _‘no’_?”

“Luciel, what did you do? Who else knows about this?” V pushed open the door, and looked towards the source of the noise—a helicopter.

“No, no, no…” V fell to his knees, hacking onto the ground. “That’s too big, he’ll see it. I didn’t get all the cameras, once he tells her—!”

The building furthest from them was the first to explode.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

“MC!” He ran and embraced you, twirling you off the ground and then putting you at arm’s reach to admire your form. If not for his soul-enrapturing face, you might’ve even taken a moment to notice the way his beautiful suit framed him. “This dress is stunning on you,” he laughed, surprising you out of your trance. Zen snatched his hands away and stuffed them into his pockets before you could return the sentiment, a bashful grin unintentionally drawing you back into his space with its welcoming aura. “Sorry! Sorry, I touched you without permission after just meeting you, that was rude of me. I’m just so happy to see you…”

“I’m so happy to see you, too,” you beamed, closing the dash of space between your two bodies with another embrace. He hugged you back, tighter.

“I can’t believe you still came, shouldn’t you be recovering? You’re…alright?” He whispered.

You shook your head and fell away from him. His expression was soft, sympathetic. “Is Vanderwood here…?”

You shook your head again, vigorously. Zen’s eyebrows furrowed. “But, isn’t he the one who…?”

Your gaze dropped to the floor, Zen gently seized your hand. “The party must go on, I can’t do anything else.”

You looked up at him again, hoping your recycled words would relay the message. Zen’s eyes went wide, the realization of the dangerous situation unmasked. He was silent for a few moments, his grip tightening on your hand as he thought it over. After a few more seconds, he nodded and kissed your hand, giving you a reassuring smile. You couldn’t help but return it.

“Then go, I’ll be nearby at all times.”

“Thank you, Zen,” you sighed, relief flooding out of you as your hand parted with his.

“And if you need anything, just yell, and I will be right there,” he followed up, arm extending towards you for just a moment before awkwardly finding its way to his side.

“Ah, um, wait, sorry,” he continued, his scarlet eyes now focusing more intently unto you. “Are you and Vanderwood…?” He trailed off, the intent of asking your romantic affiliation obvious in his inflexion.

“Yes,” you smiled. He paused, an emotion you didn’t catch crossing his face before he nodded and smiled back.

“I’m happy for you.”

You curtsied to him and he chuckled, returning it far more gracefully.

“Show off,” you laughed, finally leaving to return to your post to approve guests. You approached the heavily-guarded doors that were just opening, and paused when you saw the back of her head.

“Jaehee!” You called, reminding yourself not to run as you made your way to her.

She turned around, shock crossing her face and then lightening into a smile.

“MC! I was just radioed that you arrived. I’m so glad everything worked out! You’re so dedicated, I can’t believe you still came,” she sighed, glancing down at the clipboard in her hands. You didn’t bother correcting her, not wanting to ruin the first moment.

You opened your arms and after just a moment of surprise she went to briefly hug you.

“Jaehee, you look amazing,” you complimented. She blinked at you, then cracked a grin. “You’re too sweet to me. You also look fantastic. I’m so glad Luciel and Jumin succeeded, it’s truly a relief that you’re here.”

You bit your lip. You didn’t know anything about Seven and Jumin having some sort of plan. “You should speak with Zen,” you said, softly. The smile faded.

“Everything _is_ alright, yes?”

You shook your head and looked towards the doors. Guests were already lined up and waiting.

“I believe this is for you,” Jaehee murmured, handing you the clipboard. You took it and flipped a page—it was a list of approved guests. She squeezed your shoulder and nodded. You felt better knowing she understood the situation.

The fight wasn’t over yet, and you absolutely couldn’t have them feel otherwise. Jaehee backed off with a push of her glasses, flashing you a solemn smile and disappearing to find Zen.

With all you’d been through, you thought you wouldn’t feel something like stage fright. But as the first guest approached you with a beaming smile, you felt jittery. He was hulking, towering, and wearing his taekwondo uniform. “Mountain Keurm. I’m honored to be invited here as a guest,” he stated.

“Y-yes, so glad you made it,” you murmured, marking off his name and nodding to the guard next to you, who immediately attached an identifying band to his wrist.

“My colleagues will be here later, some are excited to meet Jumin Han in a different capacity.” You nodded and softened. He was trying to make brief conversation, keep it amicable. It was so endearing, you wished you could tell him this was really the last place he should be if he wanted to keep up a friendly face.

But you didn’t.

“Please enjoy yourself.”

You recognized the next one, and almost teared up. “Conscious Kim!”

He blinked, surprised, then laughed at your outburst. “I’m not a celebrity, but I feel like one with a greeting like that. I guess I don’t need to state my name, then?” You quickly found it and marked it off, he held his arm out for his security band.

“I’m just so thankful for all the work you’ve done. W-with the apartment, and everything else…” You explained, a little embarrassed at your enthusiasm when just a moment ago you regretting letting guests inside.

His smile faded. “What happened was unfortunate, I can only hope such a tragedy never strikes again. I’m thankful for the RFA’s support.”

You nodded and he brushed by.

Your fingers tapped the clipboard and you took a deep breath. You could do this. For the guests, for the RFA, for Vanderwood.

The confidence bubbling in your chest quickly evaporated as the next-in-line stepped up.

“Yongu Moi,” he stated. Panic flared in your chest—you recognized him, you _knew_ him, you’d seen his face before. His jet black hair was slicked back, his lips and minty stare flashing a small smile upon seeing your wide eyes. “I’m on the list,” he emphasized, motioning for you to check. “I was invited back from the last one.”

You flipped the pages. There he was. Yongu Moi. He was listed as a representative of the Young Men’s Literature Association, but you only knew of him as just another Mint Eye Believer who had ignored you in the hallways.

Rika’s plan became painfully clear. Most of Mint Eye didn’t need to sneak in, if the RFA saw Believers she chose to attend, they’d recognize them and encourage them inside with open arms. Your list, surely modified by Saeran, was useless for filtering out those who shouldn’t be there. And even if they weren’t on the list, they knew you wouldn’t deny them.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

Vanderwood was laughing a lot more than usual—that he would’ve died had Saeran simply chose to activate the bombs of Magenta immediately instead of waiting until everyone evacuated, and that no communication was going through to the party to alert them of Rika’s plan. He laughed at V’s pathetic explanations about a sun, Rika’s descent into madness, love, and how all of this was his fault. He laughed at Jumin Han, who kept interjecting and trying to empathize and assess the situation from a logical standpoint when it so clearly _wasn’t_ , and he laughed at the medics who thought he would ever let anyone associated (albeit loosely) with the RFA touch him. Of course, not all of them were vocal. He laughed in his mind, a volcano of resentment erupting but not pouring out of its top for the world to know. But what infuriated him more than V was undoubtedly Seven, who consistently tried to understand him and rationalize his behavior, hanging onto Vanderwood’s guess that he was exhibiting hostage behavior.

But now, after hearing him speak, Vanderwood could concede that he was wrong. V was simply an unredeemable _liar_. To see Seven stabbed in the heart and still excuse the dagger Vanderwood understood was a symptom of denial. And through the five stages of grief, Seven finally crumbled.

Anger.

“You _lied_ to me!”

Seven was screaming and standing now, Vanderwood could do nothing but wait. Nothing he could say was going to calm him down. He’d never seen Seven like this before, the closest being just a few days ago when they had fought over the same man who he directed his wrath at now. He directed his attention to his injury, having finished inspecting the supplies the medics had begrudgingly given him after being repeatedly rejected.

“I loved her and I _cried_ for her! My brother, my _brother_ —I trusted you with my life and you promised me he was okay…”

He was sobbing, angry and hot tears streaming down his cheeks and if it were possible to throw them he’s sure Seven would try.

“Why would he do this…why would he come after me? And the RFA? I’ve been fighting my brother this entire time and you _knew_!”

Seven stumbled as the helicopter hit turbulence and Vanderwood winced when he bumped his shoulder, blood caking his gloved fingers as he continued to stitch.

Bargaining.

“V, you’re exaggerating, I know you are. Tell me what I can do for Saeran, bring me to Saeran…”

“Luciel, I don’t know where he is…only Rika knows…”

“Don’t lie to me anyway, V…Please, why would you do this to me…all I ever wanted was Saeran to be happy…”

“He doesn’t know, he’s telling the truth,” Jumin murmured softly.

Back to anger.

“Oh yes, you’ve been so helpful in knowing about V’s lies! Did you know about this, too? Is that why you hardly mourned Rika?”

Uh oh.

Jumin rose to meet Seven’s height. “I loved her, too. You insult me by suggesting I did not grieve alongside V.”

Only Vanderwood seemed to notice V’s head dip. He finished his stitch and rolled his sleeve back down, gently flexing his arm.

“Some friend you are to not be able to tell when they’re grieving or not.”

“He _did_ grieve. Although Rika did not physically die, she still left him.”

Sadness.

“Rika isn’t the only one who left.”

Seven slumped back down into his seat, Jumin followed, his features softening to something more akin to pity. Jumin wasn’t the most facially expressive man, but Vanderwood could still understand his emotions just fine. Jumin was going through his own grief even then—except perhaps he was more stuck on denial, with a dash of disappointment. Seven wasn’t the one he wanted to speak with, but there was no privacy here for the two friends.

“I’m sorry,” V whispered.

“Sorry won’t bring my brother back,” Seven sighed, no malice in his voice. He was defeated. The one thing in the world he cared about, seemingly tortured and brainwashed. He sobbed into his sleeves again, and Vanderwood’s stomach felt twisted.

He wanted to help him, promise him that he’d help retrieve his brother safely. But he couldn’t do it, it wouldn’t be fully honest. He hated Saeran, he knew what he’d done to you. And although he knew the power of brainwashing, his personal feelings clouded his judgment. Vanderwood wasn’t an angel, and he wasn’t going to pretend to be one now just to appease his partner.

Awkwardly, he tried to comfort him in a different way. Vanderwood reached over and pulled Seven into him. The younger agent fell into his touch easily, burying his face into his unharmed shoulder and tugging on his jacket as his fears and sadness stained onto him. He soothed his fingers over Seven’s messy hair, a not-too-distant memory guiding his touches and strangely relaxing him.

He ignored the strangers in the helicopter, the wary Jumin, and the hunched over V—he was coming for you and you only. He had already decided he had enough of the RFA.

## ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧  
The story branches here between the Good Ending and Bad Ending. Continue reading for the Good Ending, or skip to the next chapter for the Bad Ending.  
✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

Although he disagreed with not only destroying Magenta, but letting the intruders leave alive, Saeran hadn’t argued. As per the words of Savior, everything was and would still go according to plan.

So why wasn’t he happy?

He twirled in his chair, a lot less sturdy than the one he had at Magenta, but still just as satisfying to spin in. The room was small, most of the space taken up by the monitors and buzzing computers that made the place heat up just enough to need the air conditioning on. The backup location was a rented office that used to belong to a private law business before they tanked (something about sketchy clientele in a changing economic landscape), and a little dusty from the minimal upkeep, but it served their purposes just fine. The other two Believers in the room ignored him—or avoided him, he didn’t care to know which it was—but were hard at work monitoring the camera feeds and data flow. He appreciated the short break, maybe they weren’t useless after all. Saeran wouldn’t trust them to imperative data or anything but maybe in time he’d feel comfortable enough leaving them to lesser tasks like these without his monitoring.

Still, a nagging feeling in the back of his mind felt it was all too easy in the end. The chaotic and sudden decision making they had to do thanks to his mistakes resulted in the unexpected. The destruction of the apartment aside, they never intended to kidnap you, they never wanted Vanderwood as a hostage, and they certainly weren’t expecting Saeran to “lose” his hacking battle by default because of a certain man destroying his on-base systems. Everything had fallen apart, they had to destroy Magenta in the end to extinguish evidence, and yet those at the party filed in as expected with the RFA seemingly unable to prevent their endgame. The distinction of ‘unable’ versus ‘unaware’ had to be made because of the red flags, which were the absence of Jumin and Yoosung—Rika hadn’t hidden her disappointment from not seeing her cousin, and Saeran expressed his suspicion that Jumin had something to do with the intruders in the helicopter who had come to help V, Seven, and Vanderwood.

With Seven clearly not by his systems to stop him—a stupid decision on his part, insulting even—there had been minimal talent to stop him or notice that he had jammed all communication. Seriously, did that redhead feel good about himself? He got leeway not because of anything he _actually_ did, then had the audacity to take it as a sure victory and leave his post. It fueled his resentment. Even if Savior had allowed him to go to the party, Seven had chosen to come too late. By the time the helicopter landed, everyone would have already been taken into paradise.

He laughed at nothing, a dull throb in his chest quickly making his eyebrows furrow. Seven had lost, a victim of his own bad decisions and inferior hacking ability.

So, again, _why_ wasn’t he happy?

His phone rang and he picked it up absentmindedly, not bothering to check the ID.

Savior’s voice was pleasant, an excitement present he was unaccustomed to in regards to planning the takeover. “Please confirm the guest attendance. It may be time.”

“Party guest attendance update,” he barked at the Believers, his ‘tech support’ crew.

“Yes, sir.”

Normally he’d smirk at their cowardly and immediate compliance, but like everything else happening he simply had lost his enthusiasm. Everything was going according to plan, two years not going wasted, the still-tingling pleasurable ache of having his way with you, his defeat of his brother, and yet…

“About 90-percent of all guests are in attendance. All Believers are accounted for and there are 60 guests present.”

He relayed the information back to Savior, who seemed pleased, but still pressed further. “And Yoosung?”

“Don’t think he’s coming,” his tongued rolled out casually, before his eyes widened in shock at his callousness. He slowed down his spinning and prepared to correct himself before she gave him a new command. “Find out where he is.”

“Yes, my Savior.”

And she was gone. He slid the phone back on the desk and groaned. He could demand the others start the search but he knew that would be a dangerous gamble. When it came to personally dealing with the RFA and personal requests, there could be no one but him.

But he still needed a few moments to compose himself. His thoughts were dark, and his hollowness was starting to form into resentment.

He was Savior’s right hand—but it just wasn’t enough. He thought this was what he wanted, Savior had always commended his drive, but it all felt so _empty_ now. What was going to even happen next after they gained another, larger batch of followers including you and the RFA?

That’s what he wanted, right? More people to rule and see how great he was, Seven as his personal toy to punish for his crimes, and you and Vanderwood…

He stopped spinning. When your purposes were exhausted, you were an almost guarantee to be in his care. But Vanderwood? Savior made it clear the older man would be an asset. Not only did he know how to hack—not as well as him, obviously—but he would reinforce base security, train her guards, acquire weapons, assist with intelligence…

He wouldn’t be a toy, he’d nearly be an equal, wouldn’t he? And as an equal who specializes in access and security, Vanderwood might have free reign to you along with the rest of Mint Eye’s future base.

And that would be unacceptable. He reached for his phone to tell Savior his concern, but let his hand still on top of the device. Savior had implied before he had an obsession with you, had been barred once already from you, and had been removed from the room when she spoke with you privately. He didn’t care about sharing Seven, part of him didn’t even want to see him at all. Saeran might even be content just knowing he’s locked away, tormented. So would it be strange for him to request you to be his private toy?

It wasn’t an obsession, it wasn’t like he _cared_ about you, but you were his reward, _his_ prize. Of course it’d be reasonable to not be expected to share it. He bitterly brought his hand to the keyboard, distracted and increasingly furious as he began the pointless search for Savior’s flighty cousin. He would have to make something special for Vanderwood—something more than a deep mint patch, something personal, something permanent so he never even wanted to look in your direction again.

He shook his head. But that wouldn’t be good enough either, would it? Because _you_ might request him, _you_ might look for him. He’d have to finally make you take the elixir he’d been so lackadaisical about, the elixir he claimed you didn’t need yet. He’d been stalling, and he knew it. But if it would make you see him and only him then maybe…

His fingers slowed, the clacking almost mute now.

If it would finally make you his then maybe he’d have to consider it.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

It was time.

Savior held the wine in her arms, a genuine smile plastered on her face and jumping to all whom she passed as she made her way to the front entrance. Although Yoosung wasn’t there, she’d finally see her friends, she’d finally be with them and they wouldn’t ever separate again—even V couldn’t ruin this. The sounds of Believers giving small updates from within the party echoed in her earpiece, but she ignored them at every turn, like background noise.

In her haste she’d forgotten to confirm her approach to her team, but she was on-schedule and would be seen on the security cameras soon enough. She dismissed the error, no one would correct her regardless.

She went through the metal detector and let the door handler quickly pat her down. The guard only inspected the bottle for seconds before waving her through, much to her relief. She was very impatient. Savior knew she was not a threat—in fact, she was always only there to help.

She approached the clipboard and waited, too elated to be upset that you were distracted by commotion behind you. You turned back, a hint of a smile on your face from something humorous you saw, but it disappeared when you laid eyes on her.

“I see you’re enjoying yourself, as you should. You worked hard.”

You clamped up, ripping your eyes away and beginning to flip through the names.

“You know where it is,” she sighed, just a little annoyed at your pointless display. Of course she wouldn’t be on the regular attendees’ list, just like none of the RFA were. And even if it were, you would’ve easily noticed her name on the list as the day rolled on.

You glanced up at her, then carefully returned to the first page, where she knew her name along with the rest of the RFA and major sponsors were listed. No one would object to the late founder’s name being listed as a host.

You used your pen to mark it off and stood to the side to let her through. The lightness in her chest from the anticipation expanded into her throat until your voice brought her out of the daze.

“They’ll never forgive you.” It was quiet, unsure, but it was an unsolicited threat all the same. You spoke nonsense, and the growing hope of your usefulness diminished under your insolence.

“I do not ask for it,” she decided on.

Savior continued on, but paused after sensing your hesitation. She looked over her shoulder. If you had something to say, you’d better make it quick.

“Is he OK?” You whispered, timidness apparent in your voice and features.

She smiled. You were still worried about him, even now. It was meaningless, but endearing. Despite your earlier threat, she still managed to take pity on you.

“You’ll see him again.”

It was the truth—Vanderwood was on his way to the party even now, although you’d never know. But it would be too late.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

You fidgeted with your clipboard at the entrance, welcoming late guests with as much poise as you could manage. You felt like this was a slaughterhouse, and you were its executioner, leading a blissfully unaware herd inside. Not much had changed since your quiet admission to Zen and Jaehee, nothing that you noticed anyway. Guests occasionally approached you, complaining that they had no connection anywhere inside or near the building, and you had to make up a lie that there was some sort of blackout. Guards no longer followed the RFA around, stationed near every entrance and exit and standing even more attentive than before. Besides that, everyone was merry, the party truly _was_ going on. You didn’t realize it was Rika speaking until murmurs from the crowd cemented the reality. The demented woman was not a figment, everyone saw the same thing you did.

You nearly dropped the clipboard as she continued her speech, welcoming the guests for their continued support. Three people near the podium acting as guards you recognized as Believers. Why did no one find it strange? Panic returned. It was time, and _still_ nothing had changed? Would it? Were you a coward, risking the safety of the RFA and everyone else here for a single man who was the most equipped to protect himself? Your actions so far suggested it.

You accepted your reality with a single thought—no one was coming to save you this time. You had to do something, anything.

So you abandoned your post. Tightening your grip on the clipboard and glancing just once at the entrance’s security camera, you willed away the eyes you knew were watching and the guaranteed consequences of your disobedience.

“A toast,” she declared into the microphone.

You shoved your way through the people raising their glasses and were promptly cut off by one of the Believers, boring down a hateful glare into your skull as you found yourself mere seconds away from the steps to the stage.

“Rika?” You heard Zen shout. You turned your head to see him crying, staring up in disbelief at the ghost before him, a stunned Jaehee to his side. They were entranced, appalled, shocked, confused, all the emotions that accompany seeing someone you mourned over alive and in good health.

“A toast especially to my dear friends of the RFA.” Her eyes softened as she looked down at the two sets so full of terror beneath her. They couldn’t be the only ones, you knew the news of Rika’s death had at least reached the repeat guests who were not of Mint Eye. But the glasses raised all the same.

The wine. It had to be the wine. The bottle you had seen in Rika’s arms was identical to the ones being opened across the entire room.

“No!”

Her smile remained but you knew better. She did not even acknowledge the outburst, the people around you shooting you questioning stares. They couldn’t do the toast, you shoved down your embarrassment and made room for something even more maddening.

The Believer in front of you reached out and you broke off in a run towards Zen and Jaehee, opening your mouth wide for all to hear.

“The wine is bad! The wine is poisoned! The wine is drugged!”

You were met with murmurs and doubtful stares, even eyes that met with security guards to suggest your departure. It didn’t matter as long as it worked in the end. You snatched the nearly forgotten bottle out of Jaehee’s arms, who slowly tore her brimming eyes away from Rika to meet yours.

“They can’t toast.”

You spoke with conviction. Jaehee furrowed her eyebrows and nodded vague understanding. But her hesitation wouldn’t be quick enough for you. You needed more of an uproar. You glanced over your shoulder to see two Believers approaching you and snatched Zen’s bottle too before continuing your mad dash. You screamed out again and smashed one bottle to the floor. Screams and gasps rang out around you, you briefly caught the concerned look of one Conscious Kim, but continued forward. You ran through the crowd, knowing the Believers were catching up to you in your comfortable, but still restrictive heels.

People parted away from you, you took a small opening near the center to bring the second bottle smashing into the floor.

It all looked like ordinary wine, and you a madwoman. You wondered if perhaps you were wrong, but you had already committed.

You apologized in your mind to Vanderwood for your choice. You hoped he’d understand you’d never be able to live with yourself if you chose one man over nearly 60 innocent people—not that you’d be able to live without him, either. You were screwed.

You snatched one of the guest’s opened bottles and threw it behind you as you kept running.

But it was pointless, wasn’t it? No one was going to believe you. Even if you destroyed a few of the elixirs, there was plenty to go around. Most glasses had already been filled, waiting for the toast.

Rika’s voice rang out over the speakers again. “I apologize, it seems our coordinator is having some sort of breakdown. Please excuse her and stop her before she hurts herself. She, like too many young people in our country, suffers from childhood trauma, but is bravely fighting even now. Her successes…”

A proficient liar. Rika rattled over your nonexistent accomplishments, solidifying your words as crazed musings brought about by a psychotic episode fueled from a dark past. You were now a brave charity party coordinator, giving back to the world even as you continued your private battle, a hero even. As you ran, onlookers began reaching out instead of pulling away, trying to stop you, looks of pity instead of fear.

The most dangerous thing to happen to this party seemed to be Rika on the microphone. You stopped trying to grab bottles and tore away from the crowd. You had lost.

The high-pitched whining of a microphone drew your eyes back to the podium, but your body grounded to a halt as you slammed into the chest of someone. Their hands latched onto your arms tightly and you cursed, knowing it was over. You struggled against the person you knew was a Believer without even looking up.

Then everything changed.

Water dripped onto your face, dangerously close to your eyes, and you wondered if someone had splashed elixir at you before you realizing it was raining. Raining? Inside?

The alarm was next, a wailing sound accompanied by harsh, red lights flickering across the heads of the increasingly confused guests. If they never returned to another RFA party you would certainly understand.

The water poured down with greater frequency by the second, much harsher than a typical fire dousing system was ever supposed to, as if pipes had burst from the ceiling. In the distraction, you tore yourself away from the person clasping you, glancing up briefly to see they indeed had mint eyes, then lost yourself in the stampede of people now dashing for the exit lest they be soaked. Satisfaction came in the form of gritted teeth as you started to hear the panic of a cult leader, loud into her microphone.

“Everyone! Please stay calm. Don’t...wait, please take your wine with you or it might get spoiled, ah...someone, please, stop the water! There’s nothing wrong…!”

No one paid you any mind as you approached, the Believers previously guarding Rika on the stage now trying to do damage control. Zen was on the podium first, face still distraught but red.

“Is this some kind of joke?” You could hear him yell in his broken voice. He wasn’t angry, his voice breaking just loud enough for your heart to follow.

You didn’t see Jaehee near him, you could only assume she was leaving with the rest of the crowd to either escape the horror show before her or assist the guests.

Rika was turning now to face him, a hand covering the microphone and her expression full of concern and confusion. It angered you more. You nearly slammed into the stage in your hurry across the slippery floor, and she glanced down at you for just a moment.

“Zen, I’m so happy to see you.” The microphone barely picked it up, but you could hear it faintly through the speakers sitting at the bottom of the stage next to you.

Another high-pitched screech rang out and both Zen and Rika winced, looking down at the microphone--but it wasn’t coming from there.

“Please leave all perishables including food and wine inside the building as you exit,” the other microphone rang out from some undisclosed location. The voice was sweet and calm enough to rival Rika. “Thank you for your cooperation and we deeply apologize for the inconvenience. We will continue the party outside as we…”

Rika flared up then relaxed her shoulders, hand leaving the microphone and hesitating to speak into it as her head swung around to identify the voice. She knew who it was before you did.

“Yoosung? Yoosung where are you?”

Was he doing this? Pride swelled in your chest, but you still had a mission to do. You jumped onto the stage and Zen ran past her to you. “MC? What...is happening? That’s not? It can’t really be…”

You didn’t know what to say. You felt guilty even when you knew this situation wasn’t your fault. How could you not when you had a chance to warn him about Rika being alive, but didn’t? His eyes were still wide and unsure, and you couldn’t help yourself from reaching to brush away some of the tears that were waiting to fall. His hands cupped the ones brushing his face and you nodded your confirmation to his question. He shook his head.

There was nothing you could do, he had to process this on his own. You removed yourself from his grasp and reached for your target. But she anticipated you. Rika whirled on you as you approached, backing away as she held the microphone. Her makeup was beginning to run as water continued to rain down over her—she finally began looking like how you imagined her beyond her facade, angry and deranged.

“Sorry for the confusion,” she said into the microphone, the rain beginning to distort her words as it pounded into the device, “We do not know when the facility may open again so please take all your belongings and our gifts…”

“Rika…” The voice rang out across the speakers again.

The woman before you froze and you followed her gaze behind you. Approaching ever so steadily was the man himself, a wireless microphone in his grasp, indistinguishable emotion in his features. And just when you thought he would break down upon being in reach of his beloved, dead family, he looked away from her.

And smiled—at you.

Time seemed to freeze. He wasn’t even acknowledging his dumbfounded cousin. You glanced at Rika to see her just as shocked--and hurt, even.

He spoke into the microphone again. The guests were clearing out now, most but not all of the bottles left as instructed, the uncertainty and strangeness of the situation enough for them to be unwilling to take risks for a measly bottle of wine. The room was beginning to feel empty, and his voice reverberated across as clear as it could in his microphone’s wetness. “I’m glad you’re alright, MC. I’m sorry that Rika hurt you.”

Finally, his eyes met hers. “Rika, it’s over. We’re going to get you help, together.” Yoosung was sincere, authoritative certainty in his words that you couldn’t believe was coming out of his mouth.

Her lips quivered, then broke into an unsettling smile. “Yoosung.” Her breath was husky, her face too close to the mic. “Yes, we are.”

She dropped the microphone, another screech sounding across the room, and pointed.

Believers dashed in his direction, but he didn’t move or resist as they gripped their arms around him and threw away his microphone. “No!” You yelled.

You forgot about Rika in an instant, jumping back down the stage alongside Zen to rush to your mutual friend’s rescue. As you both approached, the Believers paused before letting go and running. You whirled around to see that Rika had already begun escaping, too. They must’ve gotten their orders from an earpiece.

You helped pick up Yoosung, eyes taking in his bruised face now that you were up close along with several, small cuts on his hands. “Let’s get him out of here,” Zen murmured, lacing his arm around Yoosung’s waist and throwing his arm over his shoulder. You mimicked him on the other side, practically lifting the man as you and Zen shared Yoosung’s weight, sprinting as fast as you could towards the exit. You led the way, Zen distracted by the retreating form of Rika.

Yoosung was quiet, the situation still seemed unreal. You softly brushed your head against his, getting his attention through his half-lidded eyes.

“Yoosung, you’re a hero.”

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

Vanderwood was the first out of the helicopter, not caring if he appeared rude to the operatives who were closer to the doors.

He didn’t have time or patience for politeness.

The RFA members in the helicopter were forgotten as he jumped onto the grass, scanning the crowd in front of the venue to see them either damp or soaked in their party clothes. Someone had gotten them out of the building and he didn’t see many wine bottles in their arms, a good sign. Maybe things had been resolved after all. They stared at him and the helicopter in shock, and it was their focus that made him realize the problem.

There were no police cars or ambulances, just drivers and taxis starting to pull up on the street to transport upset guests away from the catastrophe. That meant it wasn’t resolved, and there was most likely still no communication going in or not. He was going to have to do this on his own. Vanderwood headed past the crowd towards the back of the building where bigger vehicles typically were. If Mint Eye brought wine to drug people, they would have brought it in some sort of truck with the caterers, right? And wherever Mint Eye and Rika were, you probably were.

He didn’t make it far down the side of the building before he was nearly run over. A speeding car with tinted windows rolled past with clearly no regard for his life or the speed limit. He took a deep breath to recompose himself, still hugging the wall. The next car came around the corner, similar with tinted windows and his assumption it would have no qualms with his death. But he was prepared for it this time.

It took off and so did he.

Vanderwood took some steps back straight into the line of fire. He wished he was wearing better shoes, but these would make do. He timed it, stealing a glance at the incoming lights to be sure. It was simple parkour, after all. He jumped and ran up the wall with two steps, gaining himself the height he needed to land on top of the vehicle. It swerved under his weight—and probably surprise—and crashed into the side of the building. Vanderwood was thrown forward, and grunted as he rolled onto the windshield.

But he didn’t have time to be hurt. He took in a painful gasp of air before hurling his leg forward into the window. It shattered on the passenger’s side, and he was met with the horrified, then hated glare of the woman who he blamed for everything.

“You!” They shouted simultaneously.

The wheels of the car started. The driver was trying to back up. Vanderwood was not having it. He threw himself inside, rolling and landing onto Rika as she shrieked and tried to push him off of her. It was an awkward position, but he didn’t care. Vanderwood reached for the Believer in the driver’s seat, grabbing her blazer and jerking her torso forward.

Her head slammed into the wheel, the honk loud against his ears even as the car lurched backwards. The honk ran out three more times until the woman went still, and he felt himself fall into the seat completely as the passenger door opened and Rika wiggled her way out from under him. The car lurched again, the woman’s dead weight on the gas pedal pulling the vehicle and swaying the insides of his stomach. He reached down to slide her foot off and groaned internally, his leg and stitched shoulder throbbing now.

He finally sat up and pushed himself out the vehicle, its door still wide open. Rika was running to the front of the building, the first car that had almost hit him was backing up to retrieve her. Shit, he wasn’t going to catch her on foot. He had no choice.

Vanderwood fumbled back into the car, sitting on the unconscious Believer’s lap and switching the car back into drive before slamming on the pedal himself. It took only a second for Rika to check behind her, and another for her to jump out of the way as the car slammed into the rear of the escape vehicle.

Vanderwood climbed out of the vehicle for the last time, stealing a glance at the car in front of him to assess the threat, but no one had exited yet.

Rika picked herself off the ground, a light in her eyes that admittedly surprised him. She was not angry, sad, scared, or any of the things he was used to in these types of situations--she was determined. Rika had nearly been run over, faced with no weapon against the man who had killed at least one of her followers, who had threatened her, who hated her, who she had imprisoned, who she had blackmailed, who had every reason to destroy her where she stood...and she eyed him with the determination of someone who still knew they were in the right.

It was terrifying. Vanderwood thought of all the things he wanted to say to her, to call her, to yell at her, but it faded the moment her bright green eyes bore into him. Only one thing mattered.

“Where is she?”

“With the guests.”

So you were safe. His shoulders relaxed against his will.

“That’s it?” She asked him now, the confused implication shown through her eyes as they traveled the chaos Vanderwood had wrecked in mere minutes with the cars. She must have thought she was his target. But she was wrong, she was just an obstacle.

“Yes.”

He did it without thinking. Rika shrieked and convulsed, the full power taser’s electricity coursing through her as he thrust it into her still soaked chest. She fell in a heap at his feet, him following her down, not letting up the relentless attack. Before he could do anything permanent, he removed it. Vanderwood found her new position more appropriate—the head of the snake, writhing in an unflattering way rather than a Medusa with bright eyes. Her fingers and head twitched on the ground, and he left her there.

He had other places to be.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

You saw the helicopter, then the mint hair first, a mixture of confusion and elation feeling its way around your heart. You didn’t know what it meant. Was it V? Did that mean Vanderwood was safe? Jumin and Seven had gone for V as you’d been told, so did that mean it was all a success?

Guards were surrounding the guests, someone had given them orders to not let anyone leave as they waited to conduct a police investigation. Of course, the guests were not happy about it. Taxis eventually drove off for other guests, not wanting to deal with whatever the drama was at this party.

Nothing had been explained because all the puzzle pieces weren’t together. But now that presumably Seven and V were here, everything could be resolved peacefully. You gave Yoosung a quick, reassuring peck on his temple before running off in the direction of the mint hair. A solemn-faced V and Jumin greeted you when you made your way through, and you couldn’t find even a ‘hello’ in your throat as you faced the harsh chill surrounding them.

A tap on your shoulder distracted you and you screamed upon seeing his face, reeling back.

You took a couple steps to run away before realization kicked in. You blushed.

Seven’s petrified expression was enough to confirm it wasn’t Saeran.

You began stuttering out an apology before he shook his head and raised a hand to stop you.

“It’s...alright.”

Even though now you knew it wasn’t Saeran, you involuntarily flinched back as he made his way past you. You and Seven would definitely need some time. But more than that…

“Where’s Vanderwood?” You asked, eyes finding Jumin’s since V was still looking into the ground.

When he didn’t answer at first, you panicked. “Is he OK? He didn’t come with you? Where…”

Jumin waved his hands and stepped forward. “No, no, he’s fine. He’s here...he ran off when we landed, I’m not sure where he is. But he’s here.”

Relief formed into a smile. Vanderwood was alright. Vanderwood was alive.

Jumin’s eyebrows raised. “Ah, speaking of…”

Before you could turn to check out what he was seeing, hands raised you into the air. It was only a second of surprise before the familiarity of the grip seized your heart.

Vanderwood settled you into his arms bridal-style, and you instinctively grabbed onto his shoulders.

You didn’t even have time to see his face before his lips were on yours, hungrily stealing your air and sighing contently into you. He missed you and communicated it physically, raw passion and desire reverberating into you in waves of adoring, deep kisses. It was hard to breathe but you managed, lost in the smell of his sweat and the heat of his mouth.

And despite the intensity that he began with, he quickly pulled away. His eyebrows furrowed and he worried his lip as the two brown eyes searched into yours. Words escaped you, one hand thumbing over his cheek just to reassure yourself he was real.

“Vandy?”

He kissed your forehead and briskly walked forward, elbowing between V and Jumin without a second glance as if they were never there in the first place. He stepped onto the helicopter and placed you in the first seat he came across.

“Are we all taking the helicopter back?”

He flashed you a smile, and you were obliged to mimic it before you understood what he was doing.

“Vanderwood!” You gasped.

He grabbed the pilot straight out of the chair and shoved them towards the door. The pilot raised their arms in surrender and rushed out, not protesting even when Vanderwood tore off their helmet.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You heard Jumin call.

Vanderwood ignored him and hurled the bulky door close, latching the heavy lock on and returning to the pilot’s chair, tossing the helmet into the seat next to him.

“Stop him!” You heard Jumin call again, although faint now that the door was closed.

You watched, frozen yet fascinated, as Vanderwood flipped a couple switches and the whirr of the blades began overhead. A bang on the sides of the helicopter made you stifle a scream, glimpses of people dressed for covert ops through the windows protested, communicating they were _not_ alright with Vanderwood piloting the flying vehicle.

“Are we _stealing_ a helicopter?” It was clearly the case, and you laughed as you asked because it was such a ridiculous concept.

He glanced over to you from the pilot’s chair.

“Do you trust me?”

You only hesitated because you couldn’t find your seatbelt at first.

It clicked in and you settled in your seat, adjusting your dress and exhaling with a confident smile. “Always.”

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

Vanderwood didn’t have all the answers and neither did you. But you were both content with finally being alone and free again. Two hours had passed, cell phones that rang inside the left behind jacket pockets of Jumin’s hired operatives had long been thrown out. You had both used the helicopter binoculars and counted to see how long they took to hit the ground. Then, it became a guessing game. Vanderwood won every time, of course. He poorly covered up his victories with vague explanations of new gravity theories, but to appease his misplaced guilt you had listened in earnest all the same. After, the only phone left was yours, something still easily traceable but Vanderwood suggested you keep it. Eventually, he thought he’d reach back out to Seven and he mumbled something about Mint Eye most likely not being a huge threat anymore.

Now, the helicopter ran on autopilot and you sat comfortably by the door tilting your head at Vanderwood who stood over the pilot’s controls, his jacket and shoes long ago thrown on the back seats along with your phone that had been sitting in your dress pocket.

“Another hour until we run out of fuel,” he hummed, checking some sort of screen you couldn’t see from your position.

“Where are we?” You giggled, looking out the window and seeing nothing but mountains kissing a slowly setting sun, all civilization long gone and replaced with a myriad of soft oranges and yellows.

“I don’t know,” he grinned, sitting beside you to gaze out, too.

“Where are we going?”

“I definitely don’t know,” Vanderwood shrugged, a soft sigh and laugh spilling out.

You rested your head on his shoulder and wrapped your arm around his. The silence was comfortable and warm, but you knew in an hour reality would return for the both of you. You felt like you were in a dream, but the nightmare of the past week was ruining the moment for you. In the quiet, your mind wandered to thinking about the consequences of everything. What happened at Magenta? What happened to Rika at the party? How was the RFA coping? Would Saeran turn himself him, wherever he was? What was going to happen to you and Vanderwood now that you had both disappeared with a stolen helicopter associated with the huge pockets of C&R? Would this get him in trouble with his job?

“I’m really sorry,” you mumbled into his sleeve.

He didn’t answer and you peeked up to see his face, smiling down at you—wide and genuine—as if you had just told his favorite joke.

“What?” You asked, pulling away to face him directly.

“It’s funny, I was just about to thank you.”

“What?”

He shook his head and pulled his arm away to wrap around your shoulders.

“I’ve never been happier. And there’s a lot to do, and it’ll be hard, but I just wanted to thank you for being here with me, for trusting me. Trust is...hard to come by, harder to keep.”

You couldn’t imagine a world where you didn’t trust him, but you nodded into his embrace.

“Enough to steal a helicopter,” you teased.

“Oh, well, it wouldn’t be my first,” he teased back, giving you a gentle squeeze.

You chuckled and sighed.

“An hour,” he hummed.

“What do we do for an hour?” You yawned.

“Well, usually on long trips I just study or read. Which...”

“...isn’t an option,” you finished.

You fell back into comfortable silence again, content with enjoying the sunset until you got a wicked idea, brought about by your love and the dwindling time of pure freedom.

“Vandy,” you asked, pulling away to look into his face again.

“Hm?” He confirmed, his eyes not leaving the sunset for a few more moments, but soon finding their way to you.

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

He blinked, and a small grin crept to the side of his face. “Do you enjoy using my own lines against me?”

“Not as much as I enjoy myself against you.”

Vanderwood groaned before he was on you in an instant, lips crashing against yours with the same hungry pace from when he picked you up by the helicopter. It was a far cry from the gentle presses and quick kisses that had occupied your time together in the aircraft.

Despite you initiating, you were unprepared for the rapid fire start and had to push back to stay upright.

“You wanted this,” you teased, momentarily finding words in between bated breaths. He didn’t verbally respond, but you got the message all the same when you felt his smile against your burning lips and his arm slinking around your waist to pull you even closer.

 _Yes,_ his actions said.

The overwhelming desire he exhibited made heat pool in your stomach, and you tried to respond in kind by tangling your hands in his hair and pulling him down even closer. You bit his lip, wanting to taste more and more of him, flicking your tongue across his bottom lip and eliciting a gasp so soft you almost missed it.

You did the motion again and the sweet sound was even better the second time. You chased it, teasing your tongue inside his mouth and humming, pleased, when he eagerly accommodated for you.

You felt the helicopter shift, the turbulence doing nothing to slow you both down as Vanderwood simply held you tighter against him when you threatened to lean away. Gasping for air, he parted from your lips, trailing kisses down your cheek until you tilted your head back to give him better access. He continued down your neck, nibbling gently, his pace slowing down so he didn’t hurt the sensitive skin.

You crawled over his legs until you were settled into his lap, and his arms quickly explored the new position, squeezing your ass outside of the thin fabric of your dress. Your hands tightened their command into his hair as you grinded against the feeling of his strong grip. A low grumble escaped him, echoing across your neck as he sucked and nipped at your skin. His hands reached under your dress until he felt your skin, sighing as he scrunched up the fabric of your panties to give him full access to your bare ass.

Vanderwood leaned away from your neck and lightly bit down onto your shoulder at the same time as he squeezed.

You moaned into the erotic nature of his actions, and encouraged, he nipped once more onto your shoulder before kissing back up your neck.  His hands lifted the dress and you pulled back for just a moment to help him take it off completely. You threw it to the side and his tongue found your cleavage, flicking a tongue in its middle over and over as his hands moved to squeeze the outside of your bra.

Annoyed with the teasing, you pressed into him and he chuckled, hands moving behind you to take the underwear off. It slid down and you tossed it away to join the dress. Vanderwood leaned you back slightly so he could reach your areolas, kissing and licking circles around them as his fingers wandered around your chest. After a small whine that he even then was building you up, he finally sucked at your buds, sending waves of bliss straight through your chest down to your groin.

You grinded against his crotch, trying to increase the pleasure you were feeling with the additional friction and were indulged when he rubbed back against you. You relished in the sounds he made as he popped your nipples in his mouth, his hot tongue feeling rough in the all the right places as it scraped against you, his hands getting tighter as they rubbed around your waist before pulling you forward.

He found your lips again and pecked at them, soft and unhurried. You returned them, slowing down yourself and loosening your grip in his hair. Vanderwood pulled away and kissed gently along your nose, enough so it didn’t even hurt, his eyelashes fluttering against your heated skin.

“I don’t want a world without you,” he whispered, burying his head into the crook of your neck and exhaling. Your fingers brushed through his hair. Something had upset him, and you didn’t want to force a sexual situation if his mood was ruined.

“You won’t,” you whispered back, kissing the side of his head.

You stayed like that for a few moments before he spoke again. “Um, MC? I don’t, uh, have anything…if you want to go all the way, I mean. I don’t have anything for that.”

“I thought you wanted to stop,” you giggled.

He paused and kissed the skin between your neck and shoulder. “Never.”

You laughed and he squeezed his arms around you. “So what do you want to do then?” He asked.

You bit your lip, considering it, but the decision surprisingly came easy.

You pulled back so you could look at each other face-to-face and smiled, adoring his curious and patient eyes that awaited for your reply. Your finger trailed down his cheek and chin, and you pulled him into a single, long kiss.

“I want you to make me yours. As your future wife.”

His eyes widened, then narrowed, leaning forward. “Are you…sure? You trust me with that?”

“As long as you trust yourself,” you smiled.

He exhaled and closed his eyes for a brief moment before glaring at the ceiling. “God you’re hot.”

Before you could tease him about his statement he was hungrily lapping at your lips, capturing you in another heated set of kisses, lifting your legs behind him so he could push you to the cold floor. You gasped at the sudden chill, but it was promptly forgotten with the heat of Vanderwood on top of you. You tugged at his shirt and he stripped it off, only breaking the kiss when he absolutely had to then quickly chasing your lips again. Your moan escaped your passionate fighting lips when you felt his fingers rubbing your clit through your panties in gentle strokes you knew were going to drive you crazy if they continued for much longer.

Vanderwood’s hard-on poked into your stomach as he greedily chased your burning lips and your fingers once again twisted into his hair. You tugged him gently, and were pleasantly surprised when he moaned from the motion. “Take them off,” you sighed into his mouth. He obeyed you instantly, slowing down his fervent tongue to concentrate on working his pants off. You certainly didn’t help, your hand ghosting over the bulge in his pants. He groaned, rubbing into your palm despite his want to remove the fabric.

Frustrated, he finally kicked them and his underwear off, before tugging down your panties so you were both entirely naked. You shivered again when your ass hit the cold floor, and he paused, noticing.

“I’m alright,” you grinned. And you were, a little chill wasn’t going to make you any less soaked.

But it seemed your confirmation wasn’t good enough. He peeked towards the window and returned to locking lips with you, his hands moving under you before he lifted you entirely off the floor.

He took a couple steps and you were met with the new chill, although not nearly as cold, of the window at your backside. You glanced behind you to see the sun setting lower and the beautiful, but fading view of the mountains.

“No one can see us from this height, even if they’re out there,” Vanderwood breathed out, sensing your hesitation. But a small grin betrayed his next line. “And even if they can, it’s fine.” He chuckled as you flushed at the bold idea of putting on a show for onlookers.

You pulled him back onto your lips, grinding your wetness onto his chest as he pinned you tighter against the window. You wrapped your legs around him and he lapped up your neck.

“I’m ready,” you gulped, stealing one last glimpse through the window.

He nodded and bit down onto your shoulder again, eliciting a gasp from you that only lead to another when you felt his dripping tip press into your thigh. You lifted your ass to help him find your entrance, relaxing when he was lined up correctly.

You gripped around his neck as he gradually began to tease in, the pressure almost nonexistent with how excited you were. But slowly, you began to feel your walls expand around his hot member as Vanderwood gently pushed inside you. You slid down onto him easily from your position, and gasped out. The feeling was new, the lack of condom making you see stars when it wasn’t even fully dark yet. You could feel every inch of him inside you, and wondered how you were ever going to proceed without having _this_ again. Nothing could compare to having all of Vanderwood inside of you, every hot and pulsing vein rubbing into your nerves. Entirely filled, you both stood still for a few moments, adjusting and catching your breaths.

Your eyes darted to his, and you felt like a spark was lit in your gut with the way he was staring back at you, gasping heavily and his own face flushed red. He seemed to have noticed your expression and failed to suppress a shy smile. “I promise, I will control myself.”

You nodded and giggled, but it was abruptly cut off into a choked whine when he heaved inside you. The way he grinned let you know it was unquestionably on purpose. You bit at his lip and pushed down against him as payback. He closed his eyes with a groan and picked up a steady pace, not to be outdone. It was agonizingly slow, enough for you to pray for more while also wanting absolutely nothing to change. Each time he pulled away, you felt every slick and thick movement tingling down. Each time he pushed back in, you felt yourself on the edge of collapse as every nerve screamed for release. You burried your face into his neck, telling yourself to enjoy the feeling of Vanderwood, pleading with yourself to not become a begging mess under his touch. You opted to nip at his ear, allowing yourself quiet and soft gasps with every slow thrust, the wet, slapping sounds doing nothing to calm you down.

But it wasn’t long until you felt your legs weaken, your days of abuse, improper food, and wrecked sleep schedule catching up to you at the worst moment. “It’s ok,” you heard Vanderwood whisper, lifting his head back to study your expression. “I’ll take care of you, let go, I got you.”

You scanned over him, positive he’d been through far worse than you. “Are you sure?”

Your heart melted when he nuzzled his nose against yours and nodded his confirmation, stopping his movement. Reluctantly, you relaxed and let your weight drop, but Vanderwood didn’t budge. He held you up with the window assuredly, and resumed at the same slow pace.

And it was beautiful, to be one with him like this, finding love in an impossible situation, miles into the sky where the world was closed to only the two of you.

You moved in sync with him, trying to match his thrusts and both going increasingly faster like well-oiled engines. It was Vanderwood who cracked first, husky curses tumbling from his mouth, losing all sync with you as he stumbled through his own progressively erratic pace. With him holding you, you could do nothing but be ravished against the window, throwing your head back against the smooth surface and struggling to keep your eyes open to take in the sight of your fiancé losing himself inside you. He leaned his face forward again to kiss you, but it only lasted seconds before he was simply moaning against your lips. The curses turned to soft murmurs of praise as he reminded you in broken sentences how much he loved you, how good you made him feel, how much you _absolutely_ turned him on. Vanderwood gasped out your name, and you shivered, until you heard a low laugh making its way into your ear.

“W-what?” You grinned, wondering what the hell he was thinking.

Vanderwood grinded into you hard—once, producing a sharp whine from you—before stopping entirely. He shook his head and his eyes fluttered open.

“This feels way too good…I…I’m sorry.” He was laughing and groaning at the same time, huffing out in frustration about his inability to continue.

And you laughed with him, moving just slightly to tease him, playing with fire.

He gasped and growled, his arms shaking. “You are…impossible.”

You finished him off your mouth, having him stand with his back against the window this time as you teased him into release on your knees. He responded in kind with trapping you against the window, squeezing your chest into it, finger fucking you and rubbing his other hand along your clit to bring you into your orgasm as you looked out into the sunset.

It was bliss, and it was temporary.

You and Vanderwood hugged for 10 minutes in post-coital harmony before he begrudgingly remembered the fuel situation. You winced as he left the embrace and you looked down at your pained shoulder. A fresh, deep bite mark from Vanderwood covered Saeran’s. You were free of him.

Relief and appreciation flooded through you, and you held it dear. Even at your most intimate, Vanderwood was thinking of ways to ease your hurt in subtle ways.

You both redressed, although you decided to wear backup gear from the operatives instead of your wet (in two different ways) party outfit.

Vanderwood was landing the helicopter near the outskirts of a small city, one neither of you really recognized off the top of your heads.

The party, the RFA, your whole life seemed worlds away now. You knew you’d have to face them eventually, but for now you thought back to your phone and paused. “Vandy? How is your boss going to get in contact with you? Through Seven?”

He glanced up at you, and let out a small sigh as he returned to concentrating on the landing.

“Um, well, I quit.”

You blinked, more confused than surprised. “You can quit?”

He grinned, although it wasn’t as convincing. “No.”

“Then…what are we going to do now?”

“Find a way to.”

In another life, you might have been worried about how deep the repercussions go for Vanderwood and your actions. But instead, you silently stood behind the pilot chair as he landed and wrapped your arms around his neck.

After all, the consequences following 11 days of Vanderwood meant nothing when you had your entire life ahead of you to do much, _much_ worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S U R P R I S E!
> 
> Maybe you guessed it, maybe you didn't, but the surprise was actually a HELLA long chapter with an optional BONUS bad end chapter that I posted simultaneously: D That's what everyone wanted....right?
> 
> Thanks for waiting, this was definitely a doozy, I feel every chapter got longer and longer as I continued. I can't believe I made it to the end already, this has been an adventure for me as both a writer and someone in the Mystic Meme fandom. I'm head over heels for Vanderwood and I wanted to formally announce a couple things here:
> 
> *I will be writing a sequel - an After Ending story to accompany this "Good" End, answering the immediate questions of what happened to Rika and Saeran, Yoosung's side of things, what will happen with The Agency, and more! I can't guarantee how long it'll be (this one was easy to guess because it was pre-determined to be 11 days) but I'm excited to continue the adventure of MC and Vanderwood. If you have any ideas for the sequel's title, please let me know!
> 
> *I will be writing a 'prequel' series - One-shots of Vanderwood as a newer agent, his upbringing, and exploring his relationship with Seven when they were first assigned together. Of course, like most things Vanderwood-related, none of this is canon whatsoever but think of it as EXTREME headcanons. Once again, if you have any idea for the title, please inspire me haha.
> 
> *If you don’t already know, occasionally I post other one-shots or short series (though oops I definitely got sidetracked with this one) on my account for other characters, and am even planning to do a collab with my friend @ShimmeringMist!
> 
> *I made relatively new accounts on Tumblr and Twitter under my new @Lokiiwood handle (thank you to my friend @Sleeplesswithapen for the name)! It's multi-fandom and I can't guarantee it won't be free of shitposts and mindless fangirling but if you're into that or if you want to ask me questions/give criticism/comment outside of A03, that's where you can contact me. I also am creating a new pseudonym for A03 (Lokiiwood) for consistency's sake, so don't be shocked if you don't see too many posted under "undersans" from here on out. Make sure to subscribe to my account for more!
> 
> In addition, apparently there’s a Vanderweek for July (thanks for letting me know @Adriana_Morgan)?! Let’s make it a success! https://vanderweek.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> Thank you so much for your encouraging words on my return to the fandom life, I hope to keep writing and get better and better. I know there's lots of things I wish I did better for this fic, but it's all uphill from here (I think). Let's hope for a Vanderwood route, together. CHERITZ PLEASE!  
> <3


	12. Day 11 - Bad Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day of the party…You did not get enough hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR CHARACTER(S) HARM WARNING!
> 
> Before beginning this, please read the previous chapter until the "branch" point :)

Although he disagreed with not only destroying Magenta, but letting the intruders leave alive, Saeran hadn’t argued. As per the words of Savior, everything was and would still go according to plan.

But what if she was wrong?

Although he’d never say it out loud, hardly able to admit to himself, he mulled over the possibility of Savior being misguided. He usually knew Mint Eye better than her himself, even if he had a lot to learn about the human condition and leadership. After all, he had been there since the beginning and she had molded him to be one with the organization.

He twirled in his chair, the lack of sturdiness a reminder that he’d never have his chair from Magenta again. It was just as satisfying to spin in, but it felt wrong—he had modified that chair with his own two hands when he was still learning to build things. It had sentimental value to him. He grimaced as he glanced around the small room, most of the space taken up by the monitors and buzzing computers that made the place heat up just enough to need the air conditioning on. His eyes were watering from the specs of dust left from the minimal upkeep, and it only annoyed him more knowing he’d have to stay here for a while until they worked out their new base. Savior had already drawn up the plans, but they didn’t anticipate having to move so soon. The other two Believers in the room ignored him—or avoided him, he didn’t care to know which it was—but were hard at work monitoring the camera feeds and data flow. He was glad they were afraid to look at him, he knew his face betrayed concern and doubt. If they reported him to Savior, as he was sure they were eager to replace him, he wouldn’t be able to lie to her.

He wouldn’t have any counterpoints if she reprimanded him. After all, nearly every action she took was to make up for his own rash decisions and mistakes. The destruction of the apartment aside, they never intended to kidnap you, they never wanted Vanderwood as a hostage, and they certainly weren’t expecting Saeran to “lose” his hacking battle by default because of a certain man destroying his on-base systems. Everything had fallen apart, they had to destroy Magenta in the end to extinguish evidence, and yet those at the party filed in as expected with the RFA seemingly unable to prevent their endgame. Red flags came from the absence of Jumin, Yoosung, and Seven who despite having left Magenta wasn’t trying to hack his way back into the party’s systems or security feeds. Surely he knew, right? It was too suspicious. Surely his brother wasn’t _that_ stupid to have not noticed he had jammed all communication? Was he giving the redhead too much credit even now?

He checked over his systems again, paranoia fueling his confusion. He checked twice and thrice, but it still looked like he was in complete control. Complete. Too complete.

He had to make a choice. If he was wrong, he would face the consequences of Savior’s wrath. If he was right, he’d save her, the Believers, and…well, you. He had earned you, after all. He couldn’t lose his toy that easily.

His phone rang and he jumped. Part of him believed she could feel his doubts, and he picked it up nervously, briefly checking the ID.

Savior’s voice was pleasant, an excitement present he was unaccustomed to in regards to planning the takeover. “Please confirm the guest attendance. It may be time.”

“P-party guest attendance update,” he barked at the Believers, his ‘tech support’ crew.

“Yes, sir.”

He chewed at the inside of his cheek, his leg jumping at his desk, feeling as if the Believers knew of his betrayal, as if they would at any moment call Savior.

“About 90-percent of all guests are in attendance. All Believers are accounted for and there are 60 guests present.”

He relayed the information back to Savior, who seemed pleased, but still pressed further. “And Yoosung?”

He hesitated, unable to find the words immediately. “Find out where he is,” she sighed, not bothering to wait.

“Yes, my Savior.”

And she was gone. He slid the phone back on the desk and groaned. He didn’t have time for this if he planned to sneak away to the party. It was a dangerous gamble, when it came to personally dealing with the RFA and Savior’s personal requests, it had always been his duty without question.

He could only hope the Believers didn’t catch onto him. So far, they hadn’t done anything differently, hadn’t reached for their own radios or gazed at him with suspicion. He feigned confidence and stood straight, cringing at his own insolence.

“Believer A100,” he commanded. She slowly turned in her chair, eyes confused but awaiting his instruction. “Y-you are to search for Yoosung Kim. I have a new, important task. You have permission to access my files for your search and are to report any information directly to me, immediately.”

He tore his eyes away and tapped at his keyboard. A few passwords later her computer dinged.

“There. I trust you’re competent enough for this?”

His skin crawled, he hated giving access to anyone for anything, but just this once he’d oblige. It shouldn’t be too difficult for her talent, especially when most of the work of hacking into personal files and security feeds were already done. All she had to do was put two and two together and not waste time.

Believer A100’s mouth slacked, but she glanced back at her computer before nodding vigorously in his direction.

“Good. Carry on.”

He stood up and grabbed his laptop bag before taking off, adjusting his suit and preparing for whatever was going to happen.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

You fidgeted with your clipboard at the entrance, welcoming late guests with as much poise as you could manage. You felt like this was a slaughterhouse, and you were its executioner, leading a blissfully unaware herd inside. Zen and Jaehee had addressed your panic with increased security paranoia, the guests approaching you to not only complain about their lack of phone signal anywhere near the building, but how they felt like criminals in what was supposed to be a safe, welcoming atmosphere. The donations were slow as a result, and it was your fault. Guards no longer followed the RFA around, consistently checking bags and treating everyone with suspicion. The merriness of the party diminished, and you could count the happy faces on your hands as it went on. You didn’t realize it was Rika speaking until murmurs from the crowd cemented the reality. The demented woman was not a figment, everyone saw the same thing you did.

You nearly dropped the clipboard as she continued her speech, welcoming the guests for their continued support and promising them a better time as the party continued—the wine passed out and talk of a toast. Three people near the podium acting as guards you recognized as Believers. Why did no one find it strange? Panic returned. It was time, and _still_ nothing had changed? But you could do nothing, imagining Rika’s finger on a nuclear weapon to destroy the person you cared about. Would it also be risking the safety of the RFA and guests if you did something? You were a coward, and you squeezed your eyes shut in a silent prayer. You had to do something, anything, but you couldn’t move.

You tightened your grip on the clipboard and glanced just once at the entrance’s security camera, willing away the eyes you knew were watching and the guaranteed consequences of your disobedience.

“A toast,” she declared into the microphone.

You shoved your way through the people raising their glasses and were promptly cut off by one of the Believers, boring down a hateful glare into your skull as you found yourself mere seconds away from the steps to the stage.

“Rika?” You heard Zen shout. You turned your head to see him crying, staring up in disbelief at the ghost before him, a stunned Jaehee to his side. They were entranced, appalled, shocked, confused, all the emotions that accompany seeing someone you mourned over alive and in good health.

“A toast especially to my dear friends of the RFA.” Her eyes softened as she looked down at the two sets so full of terror beneath her. They couldn’t be the only ones, you knew the news of Rika’s death had at least reached the repeat guests who were not of Mint Eye. But the glasses raised all the same.

The wine. It had to be the wine. The bottle you had seen in Rika’s arms was identical to the ones being opened across the entire room.

“Savior!”

Her eyes flittered over to you, her smile remaining as she continued raising her glass. She did not even publically acknowledge the outburst, the people around you shooting you questioning stares. They nullified you, your head lowering in shame until their weight.

The Believer in front of you reached out and you broke off in a half-run towards Zen and Jaehee, speaking under your breath so no one else could hear you.

“It’s the wine, the wine is drugged.”

You were ignored by Zen, Jaehee’s eyes brimming eyes tearing away from Rika to meet yours in a confused glare. You snatched the nearly forgotten bottle out of her arms, shaking it at her to emphasize your point.

“ _They can’t toast_.”

You spoke with conviction. Jaehee furrowed her eyebrows and nodded vague understanding. But you doubted it meant much, since she still stood in place, tears dripping down her face as she stared at the bottle you held. This was a waste of time. You glanced over your shoulder to see two Believers approaching you and snatched Zen’s bottle too before taking off in a mad dash. You shoved your way through the crowd, but were mostly ignored as they either cheered or laughed amongst each other. You briefly caught the concerned look of one Conscious Kim, but continued forward. You ran through the crowd, knowing the Believers were catching up to you in your comfortable, but still restrictive heels.

People slowed you down, some parting away upon recognizing you as the party coordinator, others too caught up in conversation or focused on Rika. You were screwed.

Rika’s voice rang out over the speakers again. “Once again, I’d like to reiterate your cooperation. Please, turn and toast to the person next to you. Cheers!”

As you heard the clinking all around you, you knew you had lost.

You watched horrified as people began taking sips of glasses all around you, safe for just a few guests who you could only assume were not big on alcoholic beverages. You didn’t know what would happen—the worst coming to mind, visions of guests collapsing all around you, vomiting themselves into death. But nothing changed.

The high-pitched whining of a microphone drew your eyes back to the podium, and you accidentally ran into a guest when you stopped paying attention. Everything changed at once.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

Vanderwood was the first out of the helicopter, shoving the waiting operatives out of his way, his anger finally reaching its tipping point.

“Give me your gun,” he demanded to Seven, who blinked in surprise and sheepishly told him with a glance at Jumin that he didn’t have one.

He wasn’t lying.

So he did the next best option, aware of the domino effect it would have but caring none of it.

He snatched the nearest operative and pulled their gun out of its holster, smacking the butt of the gun into their jaw when they attempted to stop him. They crumbled at his feet and he disappeared into the crowd before he could face the consequences.

He scanned through the faces, vaguely noting everyone was either damp or soaked in their party clothes. Someone had gotten them out of the building, but most had wine bottles in their arms, a bad sign. And there was another problem.

There were no police cars or ambulances, just drivers and taxis starting to pull up to transport upset guests away from the catastrophe. That meant it wasn’t resolved, and there was still most likely no communication going in or not. He was going to have to do this on his own. Vanderwood ran past the crowd towards the back of the building where bigger vehicles typically were. If Mint Eye brought wine to drug people, they would have brought it in some sort of truck with the caterers, right? And wherever Mint Eye and Rika were, you probably were.

But you weren’t. He glared ahead at the people—Rika among them—piling into cars to leave.

Normally, he’d leave them to the police and try not to get involved, wanting to seek you out instead. But seeing as he had already publicly stolen a gun, all rationality was gone, replaced with the emotion of a man furious and in-love.

He aimed and shot, the front two wheels of each car immediately bursting as he mowed them down without a second thought.

He approached. He didn’t know if they had weapons, but figured he would’ve been shot at by now if they had. He was being reckless, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. The Believers piled back out of the cars, unwilling to approach the man with an assault weapon. They put themselves in front of Rika and he clicked his teeth.

“Rika, where is she?” He yelled towards them.

“With the guests,” a different Believer answered. He searched over the lined up Believers to check for inconsistent expressions, but found none.

So you were safe. His shoulders relaxed against his will.

They spoke in hushed whispers but he didn’t bother asking what they could possibly be planning. They would have to find a new method of transportation and he doubted they had planned to change at least six tires and quickly before they were stopped. Since Jumin and his operatives were here, he doubted they’d escape now.

It was over for them.

Vanderwood dashed back the way he came, tucking the gun inside his jacket and hoping no one stopped him.

He had places to be.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

When Saeran arrived, he already felt like he was being punished. Was this somehow his fault for not being at the security room? Would he have anticipated and prevented this? It was raining from the inside—more accurately, pouring down buckets and guests were running to escape what was an enormous pipe break. But where were their wine bottles? The radio in his ear was screaming, frantic Believers shouting out demands and others confused, giving different versions of the events that were unfolding.

He singled in on one of them confirming that Savior was safe, and they were to all escape in the vehicles in the back. A sickening feeling twisted in his throat. The party was ruined. He didn’t know how—and he was supposed to be the one to know everything that was happening—and yet he didn’t know, and he was here against Savior’s direct orders.

He knew how it would look, and he didn’t have any evidence even in his personal thoughts to believe this wasn’t somehow all his fault. He felt himself shutting down. There was no out for him, if he even survived the angriest, most aggressive cleansing in the history of Mint Eye, would he even want to live anymore? He didn’t deserve to be at Savior’s side anymore. He didn’t know how, but he had ruined everything.

He was breaking, frozen by his heavy feet and paralyzing fear. His mother was right—he was the weak twin, he ruined everything, he would never amount to anything, would Savior get rid of him? Leave him? Hot tears were streaming down his face, but then he started to get angry.

No, _you_ had to have done this. You did something—you were the only one here who knew!

As if he had summoned you, his eyes snapped to you exiting the building with Yoosung in your arms, Zen helping. He couldn’t even register that Yoosung was there, all he saw was red—all he saw was _you_.

“MC!”

Your head snapped up and you froze. It had to be your guilt, your confirmation.

You nearly dropped Yoosung as you shrunk away, running away from him. But you weren’t going to get away.

He shoved past the guests, nose curling when his hand hit their damp bodies. “Stop!” He yelled out again.

“Please!”

As soon as the fleeting words escaped him, he grit his teeth—the pain in his gums nowhere near as painful as the realization he had practically pleaded for you, loud and public. He didn’t mean to say it and felt like throwing up, embarrassed and confused. It was beneath him.

But you had stopped all the same. You, without a doubt, had listened to his pathetic plea and stopped running. He caught his breath as he approached you, pushing one last guest out of his way. Saeran was burning up now, and he held back the taste of fresh vomit, breathing hard through his nostrils.

You flinched back, but still waited as he stood just out of reach from you. And as he locked eyes with you, he forgot why he had called you in the first place. He was still angry, of course. It was your fault, right? It was all your fault, if you had just listened to him in the first place so he had never destroyed the apartment, if maybe you had just died in the building like you were supposed to…

If you just…

If you…

“Saeran?”

Your words were like sharp icicles into his blazing temple, a bittersweet sensation that painfully woke him up. He hadn’t realized he had closed his eyes until he opened them again to focus in on you. Your worried eyes were all it took for him to snarl at you. How dare you, after all he did, _still_ pity him?

You were nothing! His _toy_! Someone to serve him and only look at him!

Yes, he remembered clearly now why he had stopped you, and showed it in his confident step forward, one hand reaching for the gun hidden in his jacket.

You—!

And he fell back, all control gone as a sharp pain shattered through him, then disappeared to nothing but numbness. But he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

He stared up at the sky, his eyes suddenly heavy. He wasn’t too surprised, he did run on minimal sleep these days. He was so tired, but now wasn’t the time to sleep.

A slow ring in his ears increased volume. If he wanted to sleep, it would be nearly impossible with whatever that annoying sound was.

The numbness was beginning to dampen—literally—like a dripping weight was pressing into his chest. But it wasn’t raining, and there was nothing on him. It was getting harder to breathe by the second, and he opened his mouth to gasp for air—but all he felt was gurgling.

He tried not to panic, but as the weight pushed into him more it started to hurt.

Your face came into view, a long shadow passing over him, wide eyes that finally pushed him over the threshold into full blown fear. You were crying—but crying for _him_. Your mouth was screaming something, but there was no sound and he couldn’t make out your lips’ movements to piece anything together other than his name. You were saying his name, crying over him, and part of him was happy for it.

And then you were picked up, only a brief glimpse of your flailing legs to know it was by force. He tried to reach out for you, but his limps weren’t responsive.

He was fading. And you were gone.

✧ ✉ ✆ ✧ ✉ ✆ ✧

 “Vanderwood, what’s going on?”

He said nothing, one arm squeezing you as you were slung over his shoulder and the other pointing the gun.

“What was that gunshot, Vanderwood?” Seven repeated, his voice rising. He was the only one who hadn’t moved out of the way, the only person unfazed and not threatened by the drawn weapon.

You were sobbing and you couldn’t explain why. You banged at Vanderwood’s sleeve, your weak limbs betraying you. “We have to…we have to go back...Vandy...we…”

Seven ran behind the silent man to face you, eyes shining as they took in yours.

“What happened, MC?”

You broke out in another set of fits, vision obscured but clear enough to see his face go pale. Vanderwood continued the trek to the helicopter, pushing past him.

“Vanderwood...Did you...No…”

He stepped up into the aircraft and finally sat you down, quickly strapping you in and continuing to ignore the frozen Seven.

He cocked the gun, and the pilot saw himself out quickly without any words needing to be exchanged. Vanderwood snatched off their helmet as they exited and began closing the heavy, iron door back, pausing at the very end to finally regard Seven.

“I’m sorry.”

And then it was completely shut, the heavy latch turned to lock just in time to muffle the agonized screams of Seven.

“You shot him…”

You covered your face with your hands, and felt that you were shaking as your fingertips continuously seemed to tap at your skin. You couldn’t bring yourself to even look out the window as you heard the whirr of the blades overhead. The silence stretched on when you felt yourself floating as the aircraft went higher and higher into the sky. Saeran’s bloody gurgle haunted you now, much louder and clearer in your skull than a man called Gally’s had ever been.

“Did you kill him?”

When Vanderwood said nothing you choked on your own saliva. You felt disgusting, you wanted to throw up but nothing came out. You didn’t like Saeran, but that didn’t mean…

“Did you?” You asked again, meekly.

“I don’t know.”

You didn’t know when you fell asleep or how long it’d been, but a rough jolt snapped you awake. Vanderwood loomed over you, a gentle hand stroking your cheek and a contradictory, torn expression hardening his features.

You looked to your side to see a black jet hovering alongside the helicopter. But you felt nothing as you returned your gaze to Vanderwood for answers.

“I made too big of a scene,” he explained. “Because of what happened, I have to be reassigned. This is...the only way I can keep us both safe.”

He trailed his hand down to your cheek and tilted your chin forward, planting a soft kiss on your lips before unbuckling your seatbelt.

He took your hands in his and helped you stand as the helicopter continued to wobble, a scratchy whine beginning to sound overhead.

“Leave your phone,” he murmured.

You removed one of your hands from his and slipped the phone out of the thin dress pockets. There were ten missed calls from Zen and five from Yoosung, but there hadn’t been signal since you made it into the air.

You paused, before reluctantly placing it down on the seat. As your hand left the material, you knew you would never speak with them again. And damn, that _hurt_.

Vanderwood unlatched the door and held you tightly against him as the freezing wind rushed inside. The jet got closer, impossibly and dangerously close, and a door opened to reveal two men in suits.

You would have to jump down. It was easily manageable, but you could still clearly understand what would happen if you didn’t.

“Do you trust me?” Vanderwood asked. You looked up at him and squeezed your body against his, taking a deep breath.

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Sorry.


End file.
